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junqkook · 5 years ago

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— THE YOUNG WOLF (m.)

pairing; jungkook/reader genre; game of thrones au, angst, smut words; 23,003 rating; explicit

— synopsis; he was promised to another, meant for another to hold and to love and to kiss. but when his hand lingered on yours for a moment too long to be proper, and when his eyes held yours for a beat too long to be a passing glance, you allowed desire to creep into your veins, to take root inside your heart. perhaps before you might have been permitted to love him freely. perhaps he might have even been promised to you instead. but war was no place for the wants and desires of two people, no matter how much they yearned for it to be.

contents; stark jungkook, arranged marriage, (kind of) forced wedding, war, graphic depictions of violence, blood, murder (massacre, really), betrayal, manipulation, character deaths (minor and major), lovers to enemies to lovers, mutual pining (lots of pining), grief, loss, depression, trauma, reader’s dad slaps her once, infertility, slight dubcon if you squint (sort of but not really), alternating pov, virgin reader, jungkook’s got a big dick, very slight virgin kink, rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex (stay safe!), breath play, masochism, some sadism, dom jungkook, manhandling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting/marking, fingering, dirty talk, possessiveness, riding.

— notes; this is based on a song of ice and fire by george r.r. martin (aka game of thrones). includes major spoilers for the series, however previous knowledge of game of thrones is not needed to understand the fic. please read the contents carefully before proceeding. also i’m so sorry this is so long, i couldn’t shut up.

the young wolf. the dragonrider. vipers in the sand. every rose has thorns. as good as gold. blood of the dragon. the king who knelt. ↳ series masterlist.

JUNGKOOK

His eyes scanned the parchment, the dried ink settling his heart into his throat. He looked up at his mother and the maester, their worried eyes trained on him as he took only seconds to make a decision.

“Call the banners,” he said, voice gruff.

“All of them?” his mother asked quietly while the maester watched on.

“All of them.” Jungkook’s tone left no room for argument, his eyes cold as ice. “They all swore oaths to defend my father. Let us see now what their words are worth.”

The maester nodded his head and left the room as quickly as his old bones could carry him, the rings on the chains dangling off his shoulders signifying the many subjects he had mastered clanking with each step he took. Jungkook shut his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers as the words on the small scroll bounced around his head.

“Are you sure about this?” his mother asked him, coming to stand by his side and rest a hand on his shoulder.

Jungkook sighed and stood straighter before looking down at his mother. “The new king has labeled my father a traitor and keeps him in chains. This message is a royal summons that I cannot ignore.” He looked away from her dark eyes, clenching the parchment in his fist. “If he wants us to come south, we will. But we will bring an army of Northmen with us.”

His mother pursed her lips and nodded slowly, letting her hand fall away from his shoulder. “Whatever your decision, I will stand behind you.”

Jungkook smiled briefly at her. “If it’s a war the king wants, it’s a war he’ll get.”

YOU

“When will we arrive?” you asked your father, the horses trotting along the Kingsroad leisurely.

Your father, an older man with a gruff exterior and experience with war, grunted and shrugged a shoulder. “Your brother rode ahead of us. It shouldn’t be too much longer until we reach the Jeon boy.” You stayed quiet, letting your horse follow your father’s the rest of the way.

By the time you reached the camp, night had fallen and darkened the skies. Torches had been lit around the tents and along the way. Many men wandered around the grounds, chatting with their fellow Northmen. You turned forward again just in time to see your father unmount his horse and leave it to a squire from your household. You quickly followed suit, sliding off the saddle and handing the reins to the same boy, only a handful of years younger than you.

You knew your father was headed off to see the son of Lord Jeon, Warden of the North, and that he wouldn’t want you coming along. So you stayed behind, slinking in the shadows away from the torches, keeping a careful eye on your father until he reached a tent and ducked in through the flap, two men guarding it and prohibiting anyone else from entering.

You cursed under your breath and attempted to make your way to the side, but you could see one of the guards eyeing you suspiciously, thwarting your plan to eavesdrop on the lords inside. But it didn’t take long for your father to come out of the tent, a younger man right behind him.

When your father saw you, a sheepish smile creeping onto your lips, he rolled his eyes. He walked a few steps away from the tent, talking quietly to the man beside him, and waved you over. You hurried forward, stepping into place beside your father as he cleared his throat.

“My Lord,” he started, gesturing to you. “This is my eldest daughter.” You bowed your head slightly and peeked up at the man through your eyelashes, surprised to find him still looking at you and your heart leapt into your throat. Your father called your name again and then dropped his hand. “This is Lord Jeon’s eldest son of House Stark.”

“My Lord,” you said quietly, keeping your head bowed.

“It is good to meet you, my Lady,” he said kindly, bowing his own head. “My name is Jungkook.” The last part he murmured quietly, as if in an attempt to ease your nerves. It was just loud enough that you knew your father had heard him and your cheeks felt hot when Jungkook continued to watch you even after you had straightened, his eyes holding yours for a few moments that felt like an eternity.

The young lord then moved his eyes to your father, tilting his head respectfully before walking away. Your own eyes followed him, watching every step that he took farther and farther away from you. You snapped out of your daze when your father rested a heavy hand on your shoulder and drew your attention.

He had a strange look on his face, his lips twitching up briefly. “Let’s go find your brother.” You smiled and agreed, pausing just as he began to walk forward. Unable to resist the urge, you pivoted to look behind you for a few seconds before going after your father.

You wiped the sweat from your brow, focused on wrapping the bandage around the man’s leg and keeping it tight to stop the bleeding from worsening. The battle had been a success for Lord Jungkook and the North, as evidenced by the aftermath you now stood in. You were tending to the injured on the field, and you had lost count how many you had attempted to help.

Once you were done, you nodded to the man sitting to the side, signaling for him to take his friend elsewhere. You stood up and stretched your aching muscles for a few moments. A hand came down on your shoulder and you whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in a startled gasp.

Your father was giving you a hard look, his bearded face covered in dirt and blood. You swallowed, but you didn’t have the chance to say anything.

“Go on,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of one of the tents. “Lord Jeon’s son is waiting for you.”

You turned to look at the tent he was referring to and bit your lip as you left him to walk over to the tent, your supplies and medicine still in the bag hanging at your hip. Once there, you ducked slightly as you shifted the flap to the side. Entering, you made eye contact with your Lord immediately.

He gave you a brief smile, seated on the edge of the table. You could see blood dripping down his fingers, but the fabric covering his arm was too dark to spot where his injury was.

“My Lord,” you greeted, bowing your head slightly.

“My Lady,” he returned, eyes still focused on you. “You did not need to come. The wound is nothing more than a scratch.”

Your eyebrows went up as you got closer, standing only a few feet away from him. “I mean no offense, my Lord,” you said playfully. “But mere scratches do not bleed as much as yours seems to.”

Lord Jungkook chuckled quietly, the sound causing a flutter in your belly. “My scratches seem to be special, then,” he replied, tone just as teasing as yours.

Unable to hide your smile, you ducked your head so he wouldn’t see instead. You peeked up at him and made to reach for his arm. “May I?” you asked. He nodded his head and held out his hand, which you took in your own. His skin was warm and sticky with blood, but you stopped your thoughts before they could spiral out of line. Pushing his sleeve up, you didn’t fail to notice the way he hissed quietly, his so-called scratch coming into view quickly.

“Is this scratch too big to be mended?” he asked you quietly as you examined it.

You shook your head, running your hands up his arm to the slice on his forearm. “No,” you told him. “But you will need this stitched up. I’m afraid this scratch is too deep to simply bandage up and send you on your way.”

“Stitch it up for me, then,” he commanded, though his voice was soft. When you looked up from his arm, startled, his dark eyes were just as soft.

“Alright.” You swallowed nervously and looked around, spotting a few chairs around the table he was sitting on. “Would you mind moving to the chairs, my Lord? It might take some time.”

He stood without a word and you stumbled back to keep a respectable distance between the two of you. Lord Jungkook dragged two chairs over to where you stood, placing them so they faced each other, and then sat down in one. He raised his eyebrows at you until you sat in the chair opposite him. You looked down to sift through your bag, taking out a thread and needle that had already been prepared from others that had needed stitching as well.

Once you had what you needed, cleaning the needle with a bottle of alcohol that was on the table, you reached out and took his hand in yours gently. You ran your hand up his arm and bent over it, looking up at him with a wince.

“This will hurt, my Lord,” you warned quietly. “Would you like for me to get you some Milk of the Poppy?”

Your Lord shook his head. “No, that’s alright. It is nothing I can’t handle.”

“Excuse me for being adamant, my Lord,” you continued, looking at him properly now. “This is no time to let pride take hold.”

His lips twitched up into a smile. “Do your work, my Lady,” Jungkook replied. “If the pain is too great, I will scream.”

You huffed, turning back down to his wound. You bit your lip and started to sew it shut, wincing every time his muscles tensed under your hands. You were grateful that you had the stomach for it, or you would have to clean the remnants of your pitiful lunch off the floor. You made quick work of the wound, surprised that he did not let out a sound other than a grunt every time the needle pierced his skin and tugged it.

“There,” you mumbled, tying the thread and slipping a knife from your bag to cut the excess.

“Will you bandage it now?” Jungkook asked, his chest moving up and down slowly. There were beads of sweat running down his face.

“Yes,” you replied. You took out the bandaging and started to wrap it around his arm, taking great care not to tighten it so much that it would hurt him. As you worked, you brought up something that had been nagging at the back of your mind. “I heard that you captured the kingslayer during the battle.”

There was no reply for a few moments, the only sounds the faint ones of the men outside the tent. “You have quite the open ears,” he finally said amusedly.

“So I’m right?”

Lord Jungkook chuckled. “You are. He is bound and being held as prisoner.”

You finished bandaging his arm. “Will you use him to bargain for Lord Jeon’s release?”

Looking up, you met his eyes easily. “You’re quite clever, you know,” he said. “I will use him to bargain, yes. The new king will want his uncle back safe.” You gnawed on your bottom lip, your question on the tip of your tongue and just barely being held back by your teeth. Your Lord noticed and sat back in his chair across from you, resting his injured arm across his lap. “Go on, ask whatever it is you’d like.”

Your eyes nearly sparkled as you met his, sitting up straight in your chair. “How did you capture the kingslayer? I heard there was some distraction—”

“Yes, I sent two thousand men down the Kingsroad,” Jungkook explained. “They distracted the kingslayer’s larger forces, led by his father, while I took the rest of my men to the Twins. We ambushed the kingslayer there and he fell into our trap easily. The man has gotten too comfortable in his abilities.”

You hummed. “Very strategic, my Lord. How many men did you lose? I helped where I could with the injured, and there were quite a lot of them.”

Jungkook’s face shut down and he leaned forward again. “Has your father spoken to you?” he asked quietly. When you shook your head, he reached out hesitantly and then rested his hand on your knee. It felt warm through the fabric of your dress. “We lost those two thousand men, and another few hundred during the ambush.” Your heart started to beat harder in your chest. “Among them was your brother.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. He looked sympathetic, his hand on your knee heavy and distracting. You stood from the chair, dislodging his comforting grasp, and he jerked back to avoid your skirts in his face. “No, you’re wrong, you—you must have—”

Lord Jungkook rose as well, standing before you with a frown on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, reaching out and taking your shoulders in his hands. He pulled you closer to him, voice softening when he could feel the trembling in your limbs. “I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you stared at him, almost unseeing. He was saying something, but you couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. “No,” you whispered to yourself, your tears starting to slip out. “He can’t—he can’t be dead, he can’t be—”

The Lord pulled you in, crushing you to his chest. You stared at a point on the tent over his shoulder as his hand ran down your back, his cheek pressed to your hair, but still warm. The furs around him were tickling your skin and his breath was warm on your neck when he spoke, though you had no idea what he was saying.

It didn’t feel real, what he’d just told you, the way his arms felt around you, the whispers against your skin. Nothing felt right. You wanted to push him away, wanted to forget what he had said, wanted to go back in time to before the battle—but you couldn’t. And you knew the only thing holding you up was his embrace.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when your senses came back to you, but Lord Jungkook’s arms remained firm around your body, and his head had not moved from its place against your hair. His hand was rubbing your back comfortingly and you felt heat warm your cheeks.

Lifting your hands to his chest, you pushed him back lightly. He looked at you curiously when he moved only inches away from you, hands still pressed warm against your back. “My Lord,” you whispered, cheeks flushed with heat and voice thick. “I—”

“My Lord!”

You startled, turning to look at the entrance of the tent, where a squire had just come in. The young boy was staring at the two of you, locked in an inappropriate embrace, his eyes darting between you. Lord Jungkook cleared his throat and dropped his arms, turning to face the squire, and you inched back slightly, lowering your head—though you knew the boy must have seen you and known who you were. You only hoped he would not spread rumors of what he thought you must have been doing.

“Yes?” he replied. “What is it?”

“The—the kingslayer, my Lord,” the boy stuttered. “He is bound and awaits your audience.”

“Yes, I will be there immediately,” Lord Jungkook said. “You go ahead. I have… things to attend to.”

The young squire’s eyes landed on you for a brief moment before he bowed and took his leave. You were gnawing on your bottom lip hard enough that it was painful. The fleeting moment had passed, taking along with it the ease with which you had forgotten to grieve. With the prying eyes of the squire gone, you returned to feeling like there was an ache in your chest, a gaping hole that felt like your brother’s sweet smile; he had never been cruel, a man too young and too kind for war.

“My Lady,” Lord Jungkook started, reaching out and gently taking your hand. “I am deeply sorry for your loss. If there is anything I can do to ease your pain—” He paused, meeting your eyes intensely. His grip was firm on your hand and his eyes were soft as he watched you. “Please let me know.”

You bowed your head, not knowing what to say to him. The loss still didn’t feel completely real and you weren’t sure if it ever would. You had a feeling that you would still wait every day for your brother to walk into your line of sight, laughing and ready to tell you everything he had done.

Barely able to muster up a smile, you squeezed his hand in return. “Thank you,” you said sincerely. “I will keep that in mind.”

He seemed pleased, a smile breaking out on his face. “I must take my leave now, forgive me. But I thank you for your assistance tonight.” You nodded and he turned away, grabbing his sheathed sword and belt before he left the tent. You met his eyes again when he quickly looked over his shoulder at you, smiling sadly and walking out from under the tent flap.

You followed suit after a few minutes and numbly walked back to your father’s tent, where you found him sitting in a heavy silence. Your knees felt weak and you fell to the ground, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Your father barely looked over at you, his gaze burning a hole into the grass in front of him. You fisted your hands in your skirts until your fingers started to hurt.

And you wept.

JUNGKOOK

He walked with heavy footsteps toward the cell his men had made for the kingslayer. He’d given up part of his freedom to get his hands on the man and succeeded. But his chest was heavy with the sacrifice his men had given for it to be a possibility.

Walking into the cell, he laid his eyes on the man, whose blonde hair was sticking to his face with sweat and dirt. With a wolfish smile, the bound man opened his mouth. “My Lord,” the kingslayer greeted mockingly. “Why haven’t you sent me to one of your bannermen’s castles? Instead you drag me with you to your camp; I dare say you’ve grown fond of me.”

Jungkook had to hold back his sneer, tilting his head to the side instead. He observed the kingslayer’s bonds, his seated position leaving him vulnerable. His hands were bound behind his back to a pole his men had dug into the ground. Seeing him in a similar to position to how he presumed his father to be, all the way in King’s Landing, gave Jungkook a twisted sense of pleasure.

“If I left you with one of my bannermen, your father would know within a fortnight. My bannermen would receive a raven with a message: ‘Release my son and be rich beyond your dreams. Refuse and your House will be destroyed root and stem.’”

The kingslayer raised a brow at his words. “You don’t trust the loyalty of the men following you into battle?”

Jungkook held back a scoff, though his lips did twitch upwards for a second. “Oh, I trust them with my life.” He paused and took in the sight of the Lannister man again, feeling powerful as he towered over him. “Just not with yours.”

The kingslayer chuckled humorlessly. “Smart boy.” Jungkook couldn’t stop the twitch at his words. Of course, the kingslayer took notice of it and tilted his head, his dirty hair falling over his face. “What’s the matter? Don’t like being called ‘boy?’ You feel insulted?”

There was a low growl from behind the cage in the darkness. Jungkook could see the way his body tensed, head shifting to try to get a look behind the cage to no avail. Footsteps echoed in the night, the rumble of the growl low and the short pants sending a chill through the air.

Jungkook’s voice was just as low when he spoke. “You insult yourself, Kingslayer.” The man’s eyes darted to the opposite side as the beast came into view outside the bars, circling it slowly. “You’ve been defeated by a boy. You’re held captive by a boy.” Jungkook paused, a small smile playing at his lips when the kingslayer’s wide eyes remained solely focused on the grey and white fur of the large direwolf as it came to a stop beside Jungkook. “Perhaps you’ll be killed by a boy.”

The direwolf, on all four legs, was nearly half the size of Jungkook himself. He was sure if the beast stood on its hind legs, it would be taller than himself. The pleasure twisting inside of his belly grew stronger at the look on the kingslayer’s face, stiff and fearful. Jungkook slowly brought a hand to rest on the back of his companion, fisting the fur gently in his gloved fingers.

“I’m sending your cousin down to King’s Landing with my peace terms,” Jungkook informed him, comforted by the presence of his wolf.

The kingslayer swallowed roughly and glanced up at him before returning his eyes to the terrifying beast. “If you think my father will negotiate with you, you don’t know him very well.”

“No. But he’s starting to know me.”

The man scoffed. “A few victories don’t make you a conquerer.”

“No,” Jungkook mused, smirking and releasing his loose hold on his direwolf. “But it’s better than a few defeats.” The wolf’s growling grew louder, until it almost drowned out the sound of his voice. “Sleep well, Kingslayer.”

Turning swiftly, Jungkook left the cage and allowed his smile to linger at the sound of his direwolf’s snapping teeth and the rattling of the kingslayer’s chains.

As he walked through the camp, he nodded his head respectfully at the people who greeted him. His eyes raked across the fields, looking for you in particular even though he knew he shouldn’t. You were probably still reeling from the news he’d given you earlier. Jungkook couldn’t quite halt the thoughts of how you had felt in his arms and against his body, like you belonged there, and he couldn’t quite hate himself for it either.

As if the gods had smiled down on him, he bumped right into you while scanning the people for your face. Jungkook’s hands found your arms, steadying you on the ground after the impact. You let out a soft noise and backed away, flustered. You looked adorable, standing in front of him, barely illuminated except for the light of the torches.

“My Lord,” you greeted him, bowing your head. When you looked back up, he could see how red your eyes were and how puffy your face was. His chest tightened with sympathy for a moment and he had to shove his tongue against the inside of his cheek when he started thinking about how beautiful you still looked.

“My Lady,” he replied. “How are you?”

You smiled briefly at him. Jungkook wanted to crush you to his chest right then and there. He clenched his fingers tightly into fists. “I’m well. How is your arm, my Lord?”

Jungkook paused for a moment, taking the sight of you in silently. “My scratch is doing fine, thanks to you.” You chuckled quietly and he couldn’t help the smile on his face at the sound. “I am in your debt, my Lady.”

You shook your head quickly, lifting your hands up in front of your chest. “No, my Lord, there is no debt to be paid. It was my duty.”

“Still, I did not wish to trouble you—”

“It was no trouble at all, really!” you interrupted. “I was happy to do it, my Lord.”

“Very well, then.” Jungkook’s smile softened. “Goodnight, my Lady. I hope you are able to rest tonight.”

Your small smile fell and your eyes fell downward, toward the grass. “Yes, thank you, my Lord. Goodnight.”

As you walked off without another word, Jungkook kicked himself internally. He hadn’t meant to upset you, but he wished he could comfort you. He knew there was no way to comfort you, it wouldn’t be proper. Especially not when—

No. It was best not to dwell too much on such thoughts. Jungkook sighed heavily and turned back toward his tent, his thoughts torn between you and the strategies he still needed to go over.

YOU

Awoken by shouts and the clinging of armor, you sat up straight in your cot. Too drowsy to really focus on anything that was being said, you hurried to get out of bed and start to get dressed, haphazardly fixing your hair as you did. When you deemed yourself presentable enough, you raised the flap of the tent and squinted at the bright sunlight, heart pounding.

The men were running back and forth, voices loud and barely comprehendible. But you did manage to catch a snippet of what was being said as you walked a little closer, avoiding the soldiers as they frantically ran about.

“The Kingslayer! He’s escaped!”

“Where is Lord Jeon?!”

“How did he escape?”

Mouth falling open in shock, you hurried to find your father and Lord, even if you knew it wasn’t truly your place to intrude on either. Logical thoughts, however, were not your biggest concern at the moment. You found them in Lord Jeon’s tent, slipping inside to the raised voices of everyone inside. They barely noticed you.

“What have you done?” Lord Jeon’s voice growled. You heard him before you saw him, stood almost at the opposite end of the tent, his face twisted with rage. Before him was his mother, her hair pinned back as it usually was. In front of you were the many lords, your father included. You stayed silent, standing behind them and near the entrance, too afraid of drawing attention in the tense atmosphere.

“Jungkook, please,” his mother pleaded, voice gentle. “It was for—“

“I don’t care what it was for!” he interrupted, throwing his arms out in frustration. “What were you thinking? He was our prisoner!”

“I did it to save your father!” she screamed back, desperation filling her voice. “He swore to return him to us! That’s what we’re fighting for—“

“He’s an oathbreaker! Have you lost your mind? Do you know what I had to do to secure his capture?” Lord Jeon stopped for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose between gloved fingers. “Two thousand men lost their lives so we could capture the kingslayer. You had better pray to all the gods that he does not break his word and returns my father safely.” His voice was dangerously low and he turned to face away from his mother, as if he couldn’t stomach to look at her. “All of you, leave.”

You quickly stepped out, keeping yourself at the side of the tent’s entrance before the men could begin to shuffle out. Once they had all exited, you saw his mother being led out of the tent with more than one guard. Biting your lip, you waited a few more moments before gathering the courage to step inside the tent, eyes finding Lord Jeon’s hunched frame over the table.

“My Lord?” you asked hesitantly, lingering by the entrance of the tent.

His head shot up, pleasant surprise etched into his features. He smiled at you kindly and you almost couldn’t believe he had just been yelling at his mother a few moments ago. Lord Jeon said your name softly. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering how you were,” you said.

“That’s very kind of you,” he replied, walking around the table and gesturing at the chairs. You followed suit and sat in the chair beside the one he took, fidgeting with your hands. “We’ll be moving camp today, to Riverrun.”

You nodded your head. “I will be sure to have all of my things ready.” You paused, unsure exactly how to bring the topic up. “I’m sorry that you lost the prisoner, my Lord,” you eventually settled on, voice barely above a whisper.

Lord Jeon looked tense, but he reached out hesitantly and rested his hand over yours. You clenched your hands tighter in your lap so that you wouldn’t do something mad, like hold his hand.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. His hand was hot on top of yours despite the cold weather. “During times of war, we must prepare for losses. Even without the Kingslayer, the North will not bend to the will of the boy-king in the South.”

Silence fell upon the two of you, though you could faintly hear the commotion of the men outside of the tent. The light inside was dim, casting shadows across Lord Jeon’s face as he watched you, his hand still resting atop yours. You could feel your body heating up from his touch, gnawing on your lip as you considered what you should do. You turned your hand under his, clasping his fingers in yours, and looked directly at him, meeting his wide eyes.

You leant forward, eyes darting down to his lips. You knew it wasn’t proper, that you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t stop yourself even if you had wanted to. All was quiet save for your breaths, steady and deep as you moved closer and closer, fingers tight around his. You could feel his breath on your lips, so close that your noses almost touched, when his other hand came to grasp your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning back and away from you. Your heart thudded in your ears, eyes wide as you watched him move. His hand slipped out of yours and he removed his other from your shoulder. His lips were drawn into a thin line.

“No, I—“ you cut yourself off to take in a shaky breath, standing from the chair and lowering your head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, my Lord, I shouldn’t have presumed—“

Lord Jeon stood as well, stepping closer to you. When you swallowed roughly and took half a step back, he seemed to come to his senses and halted sheepishly. “No, it’s not that,” he interrupted you. He sighed heavily, dropping his hands to his sides. “I’m betrothed to a Frey girl,” he finally said, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Oh,” was all you said in return.

Before you could truly process what that meant, your lord continued. “We had to pass through the Twins to get to the Kingslayer’s forces,” he explained. “There had to be negotiations made with Lord Frey. His condition to let us through was for me to marry one of his daughters.”

You finally looked at him, clasping your hands in front of you tightly. “Oh,” you repeated.

“I—“ Lord Jeon stopped himself, gazing back at you almost desperately. He seemed to want to say something, but couldn’t get the words out—or wouldn’t.

You steeled yourself and took in a breath. “Regardless, please forgive me, my Lord. It was not proper nor my place to do such a thing.”

Lord Jeon’s face softened as he looked at you. “There is nothing to forgive, my Lady.”

You bowed your head slightly. “I wish you good fortune with your bride-to-be,” you continued, almost choking on the words. “Please excuse me.” You heard him faintly murmur what you assumed to be a dismissal and you took your leave, walking straight out of the tent and back towards your own without looking back.

Your name was called by a soldier, catching your attention as you finished cleaning the wounds of the young boy in front of you. You turned to meet his gaze, blinking up at him curiously from your crouched position.

“Lord Jeon wants to see you,” the man said, a smirk on his face.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, simply nodding your head and finishing up with the patient you were currently bandaging up. You hadn’t seen or spoken to Lord Jeon in days, too afraid and embarrassed to go looking for him again—not after what he’d told you the last time. Your face felt hot as you recalled the memory, chiding yourself for acting so impulsively and improperly. What had you been thinking, trying to kiss your lord?

You found him in his usual tent, alone. You swallowed nervously as you walked in with your bag of medical supplies. The last time you had been alone with him had been disastrous. He looked up at you with a small smile.

“Hello,” he said easily.

“Hello,” you replied, your voice quiet. You walked over to the chair he was seated at, the map and plans for his next move in front of him on the table. His attention, however, was focused solely on you. “You wanted to see me, my Lord?”

“Yes,” he responded without missing a beat. “I seem to have gotten another scratch.”

“I see.”

He tilted his head to the side, almost playfully. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to treat me, my Lady?”

You ducked your head, biting back a smile. “Of course not, my Lord. Where is the scratch?”

Lord Jeon chuckled, shifting to put his leg out closer to you. When you took a closer look, you could see that there was blood pooling over his knee and his pants were torn higher up along his thigh. You swallowed past the quickly forming lump in your throat, glancing up at him briefly as you crouched down between his legs. The air suddenly tensed, as if there wasn’t enough oxygen to inhale, and you wondered if it was just you who felt like this.

You pulled out a pair of scissors from your bag after you set it beside you, fixing your position so you were comfortably on your knees. You set a hand on his thigh, trying not to think about how firm the muscles felt under your palm. You dragged your fingers along the tear in the fabric, pulling it up so you could cut away from the wound. You had to force your breathing to remain steady as you got to work cleaning the large gash on his thigh.

“We managed to push back the Lannister army,” Lord Jeon said quietly, cutting through the tense atmosphere while you worked. “We took two Lannister boys as well.”

You perked up slightly. “Have you caught the Kingslayer yet?”

He sighed. “No, he was nowhere to be found, the coward. And to think they call him the greatest swordsman alive.”

“He’s no match for you, I’m sure,” you quipped.

Lord Jeon chuckled. “Of course not.”

After another brief silence, you grabbed your thread and needle to stitch his wound, just as you had before. “This will hurt, my Lord.”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes playfully and started to stitch, sticking the needle through the skin at the end of the wound. “Who are the Lannister boys you captured?”

“Distant cousins of the Kingslayer,” he said, though his voice was pitched low. “They’re just boys.”

“How old are they?”

“Thirteen and eleven.”

Your eyes widened, but you continued to work on the wound as carefully as you could. “That’s very young.”

“Too young,” Lord Jeon replied.

A few more moments passed as you worked, your eyes never leaving his wound. “Why did you call for me, my Lord?” you finally asked, barely able to gather the courage to do it. “There are many nurses to treat the wounded.”

When he didn’t respond, you worried that you had overstepped, but then his gloved hand came to rest atop your head. You stopped your stitching and looked up at him in surprise, shocked to find his expression a mix between regret and tenderness. His thumb was gently stroking your hair, almost like a subconscious movement. “I trust you.” The hand on your head, even through the glove, felt unbelievably warm on your head and you couldn’t stop the shiver that shot through your spine. “And it wouldn’t do to have the others see their lord wounded.”

You wanted to kiss him.

He was promised to another, meant for another to hold and to love and to kiss. But when his hand lingered on yours for a moment too long to be proper, and when his eyes held yours for a beat too long to be a passing glance, you allowed desire to creep into your veins, to take root inside your heart. Perhaps before you might have been permitted to love him freely. Perhaps he might have even been promised to you instead. But war was no place for the wants and desires of two people, no matter how much they yearned for it to be.

You swallowed, opening your mouth to say something, when Lady Jeon rushed in with a few guards, a paper clutched tightly in her fist. Your head snapped over to look at them, your position provocative from behind the table. Body flushing with heat, you moved away as far as you could without pulling the thread of the needle, and Lord Jeon quickly removed his hand from your head.

“What is it?” he asked after clearing his throat. He beckoned them over to the side of the table the two of you were on. They approached cautiously, but you could see the line of his mother’s shoulders relax when she was close enough to see that you were mending his wound.

“It’s your father,” she told him with a broken voice. “They’ve executed your father.”

There was silence in the tent and you looked up at Lord Jeon’s face, his pain and shock written all over it for everyone to see. He started to move, but you quickly pressed down on his thigh, catching his attention.

“My Lord,” you said. “You mustn’t move. The wound is not properly mended yet.” He looked down at you with stony eyes and you almost flinched away, but you ducked your head and worked to finish stitching his broken skin with your trembling fingers.

“What,” Lord Jeon began with a voice that sounded almost like that of a wolf’s growl, “happened?”

Lady Jeon dropped the parchment on the table in front of her son. You couldn’t see her face for she stood behind you, but you attempted to complete your work as quickly as you could. He picked the parchment up off the table and his eyes took in the words harshly.

“Treason?” Lord Jeon scoffed. “Father? He is no traitor. The new king fancies himself a man, labeling my father a traitor of the Seven Kingdoms and taking his head.” You barely recognized the edge in his voice, unlike you’d ever heard it before. “Guards, escort my mother back to her tent. We arrive in Riverrun tonight.”

“Jungkook, you can’t be serious—“ his mother started, but he silenced her quickly.

“You released my prisoner for the sake of my father’s safety,” he said bluntly. “Now he has been beheaded, his name smeared with the word ‘traitor,’ and the Kingslayer is probably drinking and whoring himself back in King’s Landing. You will be confined to your chambers indefinitely.” His voice dipped low, dangerous, and you had just barely managed to finish your stitching, tying the thread and cutting it with the scissors. “The only reason you’re still breathing for your treasonous acts is because you are my mother.”

Once the guards had escorted Lady Jeon out of the tent and toward her own, you shifted back a bit, your knees aching when you moved them. You opened your mouth to excuse yourself, sure that Lord Jeon would want to be alone, but before you could get to your feet or say a word, his arms had wrapped around you and pulled you in close.

Your face was crushed into the furs of his coat, his hands holding your crouched body as close as he could to his chest. He had pulled you in closer between his thighs, until the two of you were flush against one another. You didn’t know how to react, the needle and scissors still in your hands as you held them still over his thighs.

His fingers carded through your hair. You could feel him rest his head atop yours, breath fanning the strands. “Please stay,” he whispered into your hair. “Don’t go.”

Instead of replying, you released your tools to fall to the ground and wrapped your arms around his midsection, turning your face so that your cheek rested on his torso. He buried his face into your hair, clutching you tighter at your silent compliance. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you could hear his own heart beating at a quick rhythm.

You stayed there, in that same position, for what felt like an eternity. You were just as reluctant to let go of him as he seemed to be of you, the only sounds filling the tent your mingling breaths and the quiet whimpers of a boy who had too heavy of a burden to carry.

Everyone was gathered for the victory feast, meat and fruits littering the tables set across the camp. It wouldn’t be long until the forces reached Riverrun. Night had fallen and you sat idly beside your tense father, eating silently even as the men around you started to debate which king they should pledge to fight alongside against the boy-king in the southern capitol. Your eyes kept flickering up from your plate of food to find Lord Jeon, who was seated at the middle table with his mother and a few other lords.

One of the many lords stood from his table, walking to the middle to continue the debate. “The course of action is clear! We should swear fealty to the Baratheon boy and march our forces South.”

Lord Jeon cut in, still seat at his table but turned to face the rest of the soldiers. “We cannot swear fealty to the Baratheon boy. He is not King.”

“My Lord,” another soldier spoke up. “Do you mean to pledge us to the boy-king? He put your father to death—“

“That doesn’t make the Baratheon king,” Lord Jeon argued. “He is the youngest brother of the late king. Just as my brothers cannot be Lord of Winterfell before me, he cannot be King of the Seven Kingdoms before his older brother.”

Lord Umber stood abruptly, interrupting all of the arguments. “My lords,” he started, walking leisurely until he was in the middle. His stance commanded the attention of everyone. “Here’s what I say to these two kings.” After a brief pause, he spat on the ground, drawing a few chuckles from the soldiers—and yourself included. You didn’t much care for either of these kings, as you would never be going South after this war was won—your place, and everyone else’s here, was in the North.

The lord continued, voice rising as he grew more passionate with every word. “The two of them mean nothing to me. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of war? Of the Wolfswood? Even their gods are wrong!” You found yourself laughing heartily alongside your father and the others, eyes falling on Lord Jeon briefly. There was a small smile on his face and you found your own dwindling at the sight. “Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to. And now the dragons are dead!”

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the now hushed group, and you could see heads nodding as he continued his speech.

Lord Umber drew his sword easily, turning his body and pointing the tip at Lord Jeon. “There sits the only king I mean to bend my knee to.” The camp was completely silent, the only sounds the crackling of the fire. Lord Umber dropped to one knee, digging the very tip of his sword into the grass in front of him and holding the hilt tightly. “The King in the North!”

Your eyes were wide and your breath caught as you watched the scene unfold before you. Lord Jeon’s dark hair was swept handsomely across his forehead and his dark eyes were trained on the kneeling lord in front of him.

Another lord stood, this time from your table, and approached Lord Umber. “I’ll have peace on those terms. They can keep their red castle. And their iron chair, too!” He kneeled beside Lord Umber and in front of Lord Jeon, drawing his sword and digging it into the grass. “The King in the North!” he repeated loudly.

Lord Jeon stood from his place, looking down at the two men with something like awe in his expression. You knew you must have mirrored his look, but it was directed at him. As others rose to their feet, your father included, all drawing their swords and lifting them in the air, you looked around in astonishment.

“The King in the North!” they all shouted. “The King in the North!”

And standing amidst his people, all cheering for their new king, Jungkook appeared to you not as a boy taking his father’s role, but as a man worthy of the crown of his people.

Your breath felt labored, the blood rushing in your ears nearly drowning out the calls of everyone around you. You stayed seated, lips parted as the North gained a new king and its independence, its freedom, back. Your eyes couldn’t stray from your king’s form, tall and powerful among the lords rallied around him, and your chest was tight with a feeling you knew all too well and wished not to recognize.

You had been given your own chambers once the Northern forces had reached the Riverrun keep weeks ago. There had been another battle, one that you had witnessed crumbling from the moment King Jungkook’s uncle had gone off on his own instead of listening to the strategy the new king had told him. That argument had not been a pretty one, after all was done and the Lannister forces were forced to flee—he had wanted to trap the Lannister army between them, unable to retreat back to the South, but thanks to the insubordination they had been able to make a full retreat.

Walking down the hall, you made your way down the now familiar route to the king’s chambers. You were always discreet, but with a place this large and servants bustling about at all hours, it had only been a matter of time before rumors began to spread of the two of you.

You opened the door after you knocked, his voice signaling for you to enter. “My King,” you greeted with a small bow of your head. Once you had secured the door shut behind you, the king in the north beckoned you over to where he sat on the edge of the large bed.

“How many times must I remind you to call me Jungkook?” he asked.

“As many as you wish, my King,” you teased. Sitting beside him on the bed, he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you close. “How is it today?” you asked softly, lifting your own arms and embracing him back. You let one hand trail up to his hair, running your fingers through the dark strands.

He sighed into your neck and you had to suppress a shiver. “Better now that you’re here.”

“You really ought to let me give you some milk of the poppy,” you told him gently.

You could feel him shake his head against your shoulder. “The only thing I need to soothe me is to have you here, in my arms.” You didn’t respond, simply playing with his hair. This had become a nightly ritual for the two of you—your king summoned you to his chambers discreetly and you appeared, his request from the first night to just let him hold you until the tremors subsided still ringing true now weeks later. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into your skin. “I know this is unfair of me to ask of you.”

You shook your head, swallowing past the lump in your throat. You didn’t have the right to touch him like you were, to hold him as you were, but you wished for it to never end regardless. You knew that, eventually, you would have to hand him over to his betrothed, to a woman who was a stranger to him and to you; she would be the one wrapped up in his arms, clutching him to her breast and running her fingers through his hair. You selfishly prayed that day would never come.

“You can ask anything of me, Jungkook,” you whispered back, hugging him closer.

Neither of you said another word for the rest of the night, content with listening to the other’s calm breathing and the feel of your bodies pressed together in a sweet embrace. Once it was time, the two of you growing tired, Jungkook pulled away and lifted his hands to cup your face. His fingers brushed back your hair. You blinked blearily up at him, your arms slipping away from his body to rest on your lap.

“Go rest,” he said softly. “I’ve kept you long enough.”

You smiled at him, nodding your head, but he kept his hands on your cheeks. His thumbs trailed back and forth on your skin and he gazed at you for a long time, until your breathing started to deepen and your fingers started to shake. Finally, he released you from his gentle grasp, sitting back and watching as you gathered yourself and left his chambers as quietly as you could, just as he did every night.

The walk back to your own chambers was quiet, the rest of the castle fast asleep or outside on duty. Once you were curled up in your bed, sleep overtook you quickly. As you drifted off to the land of dreams, you thought you could almost still feel your king’s arms circling you.

You woke as early as you usually did, stretching and preparing for the day ahead of you. You knew you wouldn’t see Jungkook again until the night, as he was busy with his advisors and planning his next move against the Lannisters. You found your way to the kitchens, sneaking a few pieces of fruit and bread, dropping them in your bag.

Making your way down to the dungeons, the guard sighed and let you through the door easily; he had long given up arguing with you over it.

Two pairs of blue eyes met yours with excitement as the guard unlocked the cell and let you in. The two young boys smiled up at you easily, excited to see you. It broke your heart, how happy they seemed just to have another person come to them.

“Good morning, boys,” you greeted, digging through your bag. “I brought you some breakfast.” Their small hands took the food gratefully, quickly digging in to eat. Your chest twisted with something painful, watching them. “Did they bring you supper?”

Martyn, the older Lannister boy, shook his head. “No. One of the men said that Lannisters should learn what hunger really feels like.”

You bit your lip, brows furrowing at the bit of information. You stayed silent, watching the two young boys eat ravenously, and your heart ached for them. Once they had finished, you pulled out a cloth from your bag and knelt in front of them. They blinked at you but did not move.

“Martyn, don’t you know how to keep yourself clean?” you chided, though you didn’t mean it. The boy looked sheepish as you cupped one of his cheeks to hold his face still, using the cloth in your other to wipe away the bits of food stuck around his mouth. You wiped away the grime and dirt sticking to his face from the cold, small cell as well before moving on to do the same for Willem, who eagerly let you clean his face—you supposed the eleven year old must have seen you as a surrogate mother figure while he was being held away from his real one. You swallowed roughly at the thought of how worried their mother must be, wondering where her sons were and if they were even alive.

“Will you come back again?” Willem asked innocently, lifting one of his small hands to grab part of your dress.

You smiled at him as best you could, trying not to show them how affected you were. “Of course I will. Who else will take care of you?” All three of you giggled together, the tension easing. “Do either of you have any more scrapes for me to take a look at?” They shook their heads and you quietly let out a breath of relief.

“Is it true, what they say?” Martyn asked you abruptly.

“What do they say?” you questioned back.

“That the King in the North turns into a direwolf at night,” he said innocently. “That he howls at the moon and eats the flesh of his enemies.”

You gnawed on your lip, taking in the sparkling eyes of the young boys. Playfully, you leaned forward and lowered your voice. “It’s true,” you told them. “But only on the full moon. And he only eats the flesh of naughty boys who don’t listen to what they’re told, so you two had better behave yourselves.” They nodded their heads quickly, easily believing the tale.

As you took your leave, hugging each boy goodbye and promising to come see them tomorrow and to bring a bigger breakfast for them, you could hear them murmuring about how the king in the North couldn’t be killed with admiration in their voices. You sighed, the guard giving you a pitying look as you left the dungeon, hoping that the war would be won sooner rather than later. At least the boys didn’t seem to hate Northerners or the Starks, regardless of their family name and position.

As you exited the castle, you saw your father fuming and Jungkook’s mother in front of him. Their voices were loud enough to draw attention and you slipped closer to the crowed of soldiers around them, listening in.

“I’ll have their heads!” your father was shouting. “And if you try and stop me—“

“You will strike me down?” Lady Jeon yelled back, narrowing her eyes at him. Her face was twisted with rage so like the way Jungkook’s had before that you were momentarily reminded of how alike the two really were. “Have you forgotten me, Ser? I am the widow of your liege lord—I am the mother of your king!”

Lady Jeon’s guard unsheathed part of his sword, drawing nearer. “Threatening my Lady is an act of treason—“

Your father interrupted menacingly. “Treason? How can it be treason to kill Lannisters?”

Lady Jeon looked at him firmly. “I understand your grief, my Lord, better than most. The Lannisters will pay for their crimes, I promise you. But for now, in the name of my son—your king—stand down.”

“I will demand their heads from your son,” your father continued, anger still simmering in his expression.

Lady Jeon’s face tightened. “Wise men do not make demands of kings,” she warned.

“Fathers who love their sons do,” he spat back, turning away from her and marching toward the others. Soon, the crowd dispersed, and you quietly slipped away, unwilling to let anyone know that you had been down in the cells. Your heart was pounding harshly against your ribs, pumping dread through your entire body as you set about making your usual rounds to the soldiers to keep them healthy and well.

As you were going back to your chambers to grab a few things and rest a few moments, you were summoned by your father to his own. You quickly made your way there, knocking on the door to his chambers lightly.

“Come in,” he called from the other side of the door.

When you walked in, shutting the door behind you, you took in the dark look on your father’s face. You immediately knew to brace yourself for a lecture. “Yes, Father?” you prompted, clasping your hands in front of you as you waited.

He stood from his chair, watching you coldly. “Do you know what they’re saying about you?”

You swallowed. “What are they saying about me?”

“That you go into the king’s room every night for hours,” he started, almost spitting the words at you. “That my daughter is the king’s whore!”

You had to calm your breathing, trying not to panic at the insinuations. You already knew that they had been spreading rumors about you, but not to this extent. “I haven’t done anything improper with the king,” you mumbled, barely able to string a coherent sentence together; you were lying, of course—being alone with him and letting him hold you close was far from proper, but you hadn’t shared a bed with him.

“Do you think it matters, you stupid girl?” he shouted, drawing closer to you. You had to stop yourself from flinching away. “It doesn’t matter if you have or not! The rumors themselves, that you’re—that you’re spreading your legs for the king, no man will ever come near you!”

“But, Father—“

“Quiet!” he roared, his open palm coming down hard against your cheek. Your head snapped to the side and you cried out, reaching out to hold your stinging skin, looking back up at your father fearfully. “The king is betrothed to a Frey girl,” he continued, towering over you. Your hands started to shake. “He will never marry you. Do not bring dishonor on our family—on our House!”

You nodded your head, staying silent. After a few moments, your father scoffed and turned away from you, walking back toward the table in his room. You straightened your back again, hand still cupping your burning cheek.

“You are dismissed,” he told you coldly.

Without a word, you left his chambers. You kept your head down as you passed people in the halls, dropping your hand to your side and fisting the fabric of your dress in your hands. Once alone in your own room, you hurried to wash your face and press a cloth wet with cold water to your cheek, hoping that it wouldn’t swell.

You slipped down the hall toward Jungkook’s room, as you did every night. He hadn’t called for you yet, but you were impatient to feel his arms around you and feel his breath on your skin. The dread pooling in the pit of your stomach hadn’t subsided, but you pushed it to the back of your mind in favor of seeing your king.

When you passed the main hall, you paused, hearing people talking inside. The door was ajar and you peeked through the crack, seeing your father surrounded by a few other men and Jungkook himself standing before him. The king had a scowl on his face and you couldn’t help but quietly enter the room, watching and listening in even though you knew you shouldn’t. Jungkook’s eyes caught yours and for a brief moment you saw a distressed expression take hold on his face before he schooled it into something harsh and he looked away from you, toward your father.

You didn’t have to say anything, as your eyes were drawn toward the ground, where on a rag lay two bodies, dried blood smearing their throats. You bit back the gasp as bile rose in your throat, eyes wide and trained on the two young Lannister boys’ dead bodies, the familiar color of their golden hair and baby features startling you. You snapped your gaze back up toward your father’s back.

“Is this all of them?” Jungkook asked one of his guards. The man nodded his head. “It took five of you to murder two unarmed boys?”

“Not murder, Your Grace,” your father spat. “Vengeance.”

“Vengeance?” Jungkook repeated incredulously. “These boys did not kill your son. I saw your son die on the battlefield against the Kingslayer.”

“And they were his kin—“

“They were boys!” Jungkook yelled, unable to keep his composure. There was silence and you were sure if a needle dropped to the floor, you would be able to hear it. You wrung your hands, squeezing your fingers repeatedly, trying to keep your breathing steady and even. Your father had really gone through with his threats and killed the two boys. “Look at them,” Jungkook snarled at him.

“Tell your mother to look at them,” he shot back, eyes never wavering from Jungkook’s face. You managed to tear your gaze from the dead bodies, catching sight of a silent and disheveled Lady Jeon seated at the window sill, her eyes unmoving from the Lannister boys. “She killed them as much as I.”

“My mother had nothing to do with this. This was your treason—“

Your father interrupted, provoking the already angry King. You wished he would just stop talking for once, but you were familiar with his combative nature, too hot-headed to ever just shut up. “It’s treason to free your enemies! In war, you kill your enemies—did your father not teach you that, boy?”

There was a heavy silence, everyone’s eyes snapping to your father. Nobody seemed to be comfortable with the insult at Jungkook’s deceased father—he had been a good man, and an even better lord. One of the guards started to draw his sword, but King Jungkook raised his hand in a motion for him to stop.

“Leave him,” he said.

“Aye, leave me,” your father taunted, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Leave me to the king; he wants to give me a scolding before he sets me free. That’s how he deals with treason.” You could see the hateful smirk on your father’s face. Your eyes darted to Jungkook’s, which was set into a scowl. “Our king in the North… Or should I call him the king who lost the North?”

Jungkook’s face didn’t even twitch at the provocation. His eyes remained firmly on your father and when he spoke, his voice was soft—but the words were not. “Escort our lord to the dungeon. Hang the rest.”

After a beat of stunned silence, there was a flurry of movement. The guards began to push at the men to lead them out, and two guards gripped your father’s arms. One of the younger men spoke in a panic, struggling against the guards.

“Please, mercy, Your Grace!” he begged. “I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards!”

Jungkook’s cold eyes cut to the man, not a shred of compassion in his gaze. You shuddered, the look so foreign on his face. “This one was only the watcher,” he started, voice growing harsh. “Hang him last so he can watch the others die.” You watched on with a sense of growing horror as the men were shuffled out of the room and Jungkook turned away, his mother and uncle watching his every move.

“Word of this can’t leave Riverrun,” his uncle said, approaching Jungkook. You stood by the door, too frightened to make a move and draw the attention to yourself. “You can bury them and remain silent. The Lannisters always pay their debts, they keep fucking saying it—”

Jungkook cut his gaze to his uncle, halting him with just his look. “I can’t fight for justice if I don’t serve justice to murderers in my ranks, no matter how Highborn.” His eyes seemed to find yours for only a brief moment. “He has to die.”

The words cut straight through you and it was like your muscles remembered how to move again. Your steps were quick as you made for Jungkook, grabbing his arm and looking at him pleadingly. His own hands automatically raised to grip your elbows, almost steadying you.

“Please, my King,” you rasped. “Please, don’t do this, I beg of you—”

Lady Jeon cut in. “Keep him as a hostage until the war is over,” she argued, approaching the two of you quickly. “They’re Northmen. They won’t forget the killing of their lord, nor will they forgive it.”

“Please,” you whispered, gripping the fabric of his sleeves so hard your fingers started to ache. “Please don’t kill him, please, he’s my father—”

Jungkook’s eyes bore into yours and his brows furrowed. He seemed pained and his hands around your elbows tightened, as if he was going to make to pull you close. “Take her to her room,” he said instead, shoving you away from him. “Make sure she doesn’t come out.”

“No!” you begged, fisting the material of his shirt even tighter, refusing to let go of him even as his uncle grabbed your shoulders from behind to yank you back. “Please don’t do this, Jungkook, please, he’s my father, don’t take him from me like my brother was, please, he’s all I have left—”

Your pleas fell on closed ears, Jungkook turning away from you harshly as you were dragged out of the room, still kicking and screaming and pleading with him to reconsider. You didn’t even feel the hot sting of tears rolling down your cheeks until you were thrown into your chambers and the door locked from the outside.

You rushed at the door, attempting to open it even as you heard the locks click into place, screaming and crying until your voice went hoarse and your throat ached with every wracking breath you took in.

JUNGKOOK

Jungkook watched the men lead the lord over to the stone, the weather just as gloomy and threatening as the atmosphere that surrounded everyone. Many of the lord’s men stood to watch the execution, as well as his own family and other houses.

His hands were bound, his look venomous as Jungkook approached him. “The blood of the First Men flows through my veins as it does yours, boy,” he spat at the young king. “I fought the Mad King for your father,” he continued. “I fought the boy-king for you. We are kin.”

Jungkook’s voice was even as he spoke, though he could feel the weight of the sword at his hip like it wished to drag him to his knees. “That didn’t stop you from betraying me. And it won’t save you now.”

“I don’t want it to save me,” the lord scoffed, a mean smirk playing on his lips. “I want it to haunt you for the rest of your days.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed at the older man. “Kneel, my Lord.”

The man did so after a long look at his king. He dropped his knees to the ground and bent his body over the stone until his head was past the edge. Jungkook drew his sword, willing his hands to stop shaking and that nobody would notice it; he set the tip on the ground and held the hilt with both hands as he started to speak.

“Lord of Karhold, here in sight of men and gods, I sentence you to die.” Jungkook looked down pitifully at the older man. “Would you speak a final word?”

The man slowly turned his head to glance up at Jungkook, his features contorted with rage. “Kill me and be cursed,” he said. “You are no king of mine.”

Before he had even fully turned his head back down, Jungkook drew his sword up in front of him. With a harsh, swift movement he swung the sword down and the metal sliced into the lord’s neck until it went cleanly through. The head fell to the ground with a thud and blood dripped down the metal of his sword beside it. His eyes tore away from the sight and he was breathing heavily as he turned away, the silence of everyone around him deafening.

Jungkook walked away from the scene, sword clasped tightly in his fist and trailing blood behind him.

It didn’t take long for his mother and uncle to find him in his chambers, sitting at his table with a look of concentration on his face. His sword was nowhere to be found, as he’d given it to a squire to clean.

Before they could say a word, Jungkook spoke up without looking at them. “Are there guards posted by ____’s room?”

“Yes,” his uncle replied.

Jungkook sighed. His mother stepped closer to him, but stayed on the other side of the table. “His men won’t forget this,” she warned. “The second they seize her, they’ll abandon you and march back North.”

He sighed again. “I know.” Staring daggers into the wood, he repeated the words. “I know.”

“How will you manage to keep her as a political hostage?” his uncle said. “They might abandon us even without her. I don’t think those stubborn soldiers will willingly ride into battle for us regardless of if their lord’s daughter is locked up in a room somewhere or not.”

Jungkook had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Bile rose in his throat and he knew what his mother was going to say the second he met her eyes.

“You’ll have a choice,” she said gently, kindly. “You can let her go with her father’s forces back to the North, and marry the Frey girl for more men from Lord Frey.”

“There’s no guarantee that he would send them in time,” Jungkook groaned, dropping his chin to rest on his palm. “Lord Frey is notorious for sending his men at the end of wars.”

His mother reached a hand over to settle it on his shoulder. He wished, for a brief moment, that he was young enough again to be able to hide in her skirts and be comforted by her. But he wasn’t. And the burden he carried now would forever rest on his shoulders.

“You can marry her,” she said. Jungkook glanced up, catching sight of his startled uncle staring at his sister as if she were mad. “It would bind our families together and as the only remaining heir to their House, you would be in command of their men until she had a son. They would have to stay.”

“If you do that,” his uncle started. “The Freys will never forgive you. Lord Frey is not a man to be crossed.”

“You are both right,” Jungkook mumbled. “But I will not force her to marry me. And I’ve already given my word to Lord Frey.”

His mother pursed her lips. “You won’t be forcing her. We need only speak to her mother. And they won’t refuse you—their House will care more for having a daughter as Queen in the North. I need only your agreement, Jungkook.”

Jungkook dragged a hand over his face. There was no way he could put his trust in Frey to send men in time for the next battle. That wretch of a man would rather see them all dead than send his aid, even if his daughter became Jungkook’s wife; his children were too many to count on his favor for any of them.

“I’ll do it,” he strained. “Send a raven.”

YOU

It had been days since the execution of your father. You were not allowed to leave your chambers, maids leaving your meals for you before leaving and locking the door. There were always at least three guards posted right outside of your room—and if you had somehow managed to get past them, there would be many more of Jungkook’s men that you would encounter.

The door to your chambers opened suddenly and you flinched, straining to see from your spot on the windowsill. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of your mother, the door shutting quietly after she was let inside. You stood from the window and rushed over to her, wrapping your arms around her tightly. She embraced you just as tightly, her hand stroking your back comfortingly as you started to cry like you had as a child.

“Are we leaving?” you finally whimpered, sniffling. “Are we going back home?”

Your mother’s silence concerned you. Your heart started to beat faster and you tightened your grip on her, waiting. “We’re not going home, my sweet child.”

You pulled back, hating the pitying look on her face. “What do you mean? Why not? They—“ You swallowed, eyes turning down toward your feet. “He killed Father.”

“He did,” she replied. Her hands pulled away from your back and she brushed your hair from your face, wiping your tears gently. “But you’re going to marry him.”

Her words were like ice piercing straight through your abdomen. “What?” you whispered. “No, you can’t be—you can’t be serious!” Your voice started to strain and you backed away from her, shaking your head. “You can’t make me!”

She sighed, clicking her tongue as if you’d just refused to sit with the maesters. “Think about what you’re saying,” she chided. She walked to your bed and sat at the edge. “Your father and brother are dead. You’re the heir to Karhold. Who will take care of us?” she asked. “Neither of us will be able to take care of ourselves. You’ll have to marry anyway.”

“But surely not him,” you sputtered. “He’s promised to a Frey girl! He can’t marry me!”

Your mother stopped your arguments with one harsh look. “Think. The King in the North has already sought out your hand. Do you think any other man, Highborn or not, will dare ask for your hand now?” You bit your lip, unable to say anything back. “If you don’t marry him, you’ll bring ruin to our Great House.” She sighed, standing again. “I’ve already approved the match. After all this, you’ll be Queen in the North. Our family will rise to an equal level with House Stark.”

You blinked back your tears, letting your mother take your limp hands in her own and squeeze them. “How can I marry my father’s murderer?” you whispered, staring at her fingers wrapped around yours.

She frowned. “We all do the things we must, in any situation. He will not be the man who killed your father after this. He will be your king and your husband.” You sniffled and she made a displeased noise. “Your children will be princes and princesses. Soon, you will forget all about your worries and be free, my dear.”

You tried to give your mother a smile, swallowing all of the pain stirring in your chest. “You’re right. I’m being silly.”

She smiled, now, and wrapped you up in another hug. “I want you to be happy,” she said quietly in your ear.

“I will be,” you answered her, though you didn’t believe it yourself.

The ceremony would be soon, you knew. You hadn’t seen your newly betrothed nor anyone else, for that matter, besides the servants who brought your meals. You knew they must have been afraid that you would run away if given too much freedom, even if you had agreed to the marriage. You spent your days and nights doing nothing but think and remember the last conversation you’d had with your father. You blinked and wiped away your tears, not wanting to ruin the makeup they had spent so long on.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on your door—you had to hold back a chuckle at the notion. It was locked and the person outside would need to unlock it themselves, so there really wasn’t a point in knocking.

Your mother walked in, smiling widely as she saw you. “My sweet child,” she breathed. “You look beautiful.”

You hoped your own smile didn’t look too much like a grimace. “Thank you.”

She rushed over, helping you stand and fixing a few of the wrinkles she could see in your gown. “Here,” she said, gesturing for you to turn around. “Let me put the cloak around you.” You faced away from your mother to let her put the thin fabric with your House colors on your shoulders, covering much of your frame.

You turned toward the door just in time to see a man you didn’t recognize walk into your chambers. “Who is this?” you asked.

“A distant relative,” your mother answered easily. Her face soured for a moment before it fixed back to her normal smile, though you could tell she was forcing it. “Since your father and brother both won’t be able to walk with you.”

You swallowed past the growing lump in your throat. “Right.” Your mother left before you, hurrying to the courtyard where the ceremony and feast would be held. You took in a shaky breath and approached the handsome man.

“You look beautiful,” he said kindly as he offered you his arm. “My name is Eunwoo.”

“Thank you, Ser,” you mumbled, taking his arm hesitantly and allowing him to lead you from the room toward the feast. You could hear a soft melody the closer you got.

“Oh, please,” he laughed. “I’m no knight. Just call me Eunwoo.”

You somehow managed to shoot him a strained smile, fingers subconsciously tightening on his arm the closer you got to the feast. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Silently, he helped you drape your veil over your face.

The two of you exited the castle and a hush fell across the guests. There were candles and torches lit, placed strategically to give off an intimate atmosphere under the darkness of the night sky. Through the veil, you could vaguely make out the shape of Jungkook standing at the end by the Septon.

You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, you repeated to yourself like a mantra.

Once you were close enough, Eunwoo released you and you took a deep breath. You could tell that the ceremony was being held in the Godswood, the different faiths combining for your wedding. You supposed it was to appease all the gods, since the two of you were from Northern families who still worshipped the old gods.

Jungkook’s uncle stood beside him—at least, you assumed it was his uncle. You weren’t sure until you heard his voice.

“Who comes before the old gods this night?” he asked. With all the ceremonies you’d been to, his voice reciting the words sounded awkward; it couldn’t be helped, you supposed, since Jungkook’s uncle was from Riverrun and not the North.

Eunwoo spoke on your behalf, saying your name and House. “She comes here to be wed. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods,” he finished with. His voice was confident as he said the words. “Who comes to claim her?”

You swallowed as Jungkook stepped forward. “Jeon Jungkook, of House Stark. Heir to Winterfell and King in the North. Who gives her?”

“Cha Eunwoo of House Poole,” your distant relative answered. “A cousin to her mother.”

Jungkook’s uncle spoke again, directing his question to you. “Do you take this man?”

There was a long silence as they all waited for you. I could go now, you thought to yourself, heart pounding harshly. If I beg the Septon, he’d help me, surely. I could go.

“I take this man,” you murmured, stepping forward toward Jungkook. Everyone seemed to release a breath of relief when you finally answered, the tension that was starting to build up easing. Jungkook’s uncle and Eunwoo left the two of you.

You could vaguely make out their figures moving to the side, presumably to find a place to stand on the proper sides of the guests. You walked forward the rest of the way to Jungkook on shaky feet. Once you stood beside him, you faced him and he pivoted to face you as well. His hands gripped the hem of the veil and he lifted it from your face, letting it fall over your shoulders. Your eyes met his for a long moment and your chest felt tight with something bittersweet; this had been the sight that you yearned for, a mere few weeks ago. Now seeing him illuminated by the fires and moonlight, standing before you and a Septon, you were overcome with the urge to cry—for your grief and for your love, which hadn’t disappeared as you thought it would.

The Septon’s voice broke the spell the two of you had suddenly been put under and you darted your gaze over to him. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Jungkook nodded and shrugged the dark cloak off of his shoulders. He circled you until he stood behind you and he gently lay the cloak over your shoulders, making sure it was completely in place before he pulled his hands back. You found yourself wishing that he would keep his hands against your skin and you hated yourself for it.

When he came back to stand at your side, the two of you faced the Septon. Jungkook stretched his arm out with his palm facing the ground and you followed suit, resting your hand on top of his. A shiver ran up your arm and you almost couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight.

“In the sight of the Seven,” the Septon started, voice echoing through the silent grounds. He dropped a strip of fabric on your hands and began to wrap them together, looping the thin white cloth around three times as he continued. “I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words.”

You swallowed roughly and turned to face Jungkook, who did the same and faced you. Your hands remained together between the two of you. Like this, you almost felt too close to him. You could hardly breathe, especially when his dark eyes were so tender in that moment, the features that had looked so cold the last time you saw him now appeared soft and gentle.

“Father, Smith, Warrior,” the two of you recited together. “Mother, Maiden, Crone.” You licked your lips. “Stranger.”

“I am hers, and she is mine,” Jungkook said softly.

“I am his, and he is mine,” you echoed at the same time.

The two of you finished the last of the vows quickly. “From this day until the end of my days.”

There was a long pause, everything quiet but the sound of your breathing and the crackling of the fire. You glanced at the Septon, who gave the two of you a small nod with a smile. Jungkook’s hand turned upwards and he held yours in his gently. Leaning forward, he raised his other hand and his fingers grazed your cheek. He cupped your face and you let your eyes flutter shut as he pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. Jungkook’s mouth remained on yours for a few seconds and a tingling sensation started on your lips, spreading to the rest of your body as if the gods themselves had reached forward and given you a drop of nectar.

When he pulled back, you opened your eyes and an applause started from the guests—almost all of which were soldiers. You took in a shaky breath and tried to smile, eyes scanning the crowd of suddenly noisy people for your mother. You met Lady Jeon’s eyes instead and her smile was so warm as she gazed at the two of you, hands clutched together tightly, that it almost brought a wave of fresh tears to your eyes.

You squeezed Jungkook’s hand, wanting to feel his skin on yours desperately and hating yourself for it.

Jungkook walked over to the largest table with you at his side, hands still clasped together. Everyone’s voices started at once, the crowds starting to gather from the food that had been prepared, digging in immediately. As the two of you sat down, Jungkook released your hand. You put them in your lap, staring at the food in front of you blankly, the mix of emotions swirling inside your stomach distracting you from wanting to eat anything. When you peeked over at Jungkook, he was eating slowly, talking with the people who came up to the table lightly.

It didn’t take long before the guests grew rowdy, their voices growing loud and chanting something that you didn’t want to hear.

“Bed them! Bed them! Bed them!”

You glanced over at Jungkook with wide eyes. The corners of his lips were twitched down into a small frown, but he clenched his jaw and forced a smile onto his face.

“Perhaps we should skip the bedding ceremony,” he said.

There was a round of boo’s from the guests and soldiers.

“Your Grace!” someone shouted from the crowd. “It’s only right to bed the new lovers!”

He sighed as everyone started to laugh and cheer, already getting up from their seats. “Alright, alright,” he grumbled. He got up, the few women in attendance hurrying up to the two of you.

A group of the soldiers followed suit, all of them rushing the two of you out of your seats and shoving you toward the hall again. The women giggled as they pulled at Jungkook, undoing his buttons and strings. Your breathing quickened as the soldiers lifted you in the air, hands gripping you tightly so you didn’t fall. They led forward first, tugging at your cloak and dropping it in the warm hall as they rushed you toward the king’s bedroom.

“Watch your hands!” Jungkook shouted from behind. The men looked sheepish and stopped their insistent gripping at your gown, thankfully leaving you with your dress on. They pushed open the door and carried you to the bed, dropping you unceremoniously onto it. The women dragging Jungkook inside weren’t far behind, and you swallowed as you saw his disshelved state—his shirt was pulled open to reveal most of his chest, and his pants already half undone.

They pushed Jungkook beside you and he let out a small noise as he fell next to you, hand catching on yours for a brief moment. The two of you looked up at the men and women still laughing, their smiles wide and naughty.

“Have fun,” one of the soldiers said, winking as he ushered the others out. “Don’t be too rough, now! One should always be gentle with a lady on the first night!” he called loudly before they left the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

And then you and Jungkook were alone in his chambers, only the dim candlelight illuminating your forms.

You stood from the bed, pulling at the sleeves of your dress nervously. Jungkook stayed seated on the bed, watching you silently. It only served to unnerve you more. You heard him shift behind you, but you refused to turn and look at him.

“If you don’t want to—” he started.

“It’s fine,” you said tightly. “We have to.”

More silence. You continued to fiddle with your sleeves, unsure of what to do. There was a soft sigh behind you and more rustling. You didn’t hear Jungkook come up behind you until you felt his hands on your arms, gripping them gently. You couldn’t stop the flinch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop,” you said, just as quietly.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Jungkook continued. “If things had been different—”

“I said stop!” you shouted, whirling around to face him. Jungkook dropped his hands from your arms. You hit his chest with one of your fists, not hard enough to truly hurt him but hard enough for him to feel the weight of it. He said nothing, eyes falling shut as the room smothered the two of you in silence.

Tears were starting to fall down your cheeks and your chest was heaving with soft sobs. “You killed him,” you whispered, voice thick. Jungkook remained silent. You hit him again, with both fists, and kept hitting him, moving his body backwards with each strike. “You killed him and you didn’t let me see him!” Your voice cracked as you screamed the words at him, your punches to his chest landing more frantically in your hysteria. “You didn’t let me, you didn’t let me, you didn’t let me—”

Jungkook’s fingers wrapped around your wrists tight and he pulled you flush against his chest, halting your assault. You were crying loudly, now, thrashing and twisting in his grip in an attempt to dislodge his hands. He didn’t let go, instead shaking you back and forth.

“Of course I didn’t!” he shouted, his own voice hoarse and his eyes glassy. You fought to get away from him, not wanting to hear his voice, the same voice that had whispered such sweet words in your ear only weeks before. “You would never have forgotten it, if you had seen. I was trying to protect you!” He shook you again and you let yourself finally look at him, let yourself see the desperation in his eyes. “Don’t you understand?” he asked. “Don’t you understand that I was trying to protect you?”

You went limp in his grasp, sobbing violently. Jungkook released your wrists and caught you in his arms instead, wrapping you up in his embrace as he held you close. You rested your head on his chest and let him hold you as you cried, grief washing over your body like the winter winds. His hands stroked your back comfortingly, his face burying itself in your hair. You could feel his heartbeat as you wept against his chest, fast and unsteady just as yours beat.

Looking up at him with teary eyes, you took in a shaky breath. “Comfort me,” you whimpered, leaning forward. “Please.”

Without another word, Jungkook pressed his mouth to yours harshly. He kissed you almost violently, hands gripping your body tight enough to leave bruises as he led you back toward the bed. The back of your legs hit the edge and you sat down, his lips following after you while you crawled up onto the middle. Jungkook crawled up toward you, lips finding the skin of your neck and trailing chaste kisses up and down it before pressing his tongue to the flesh.

You arched your back and spread your legs, allowing his hips to nestle comfortably against yours, the hard bulge in his pants pressing against you deliciously. He bit down on your shoulder as his hands hurriedly lifted the skirts of your dress, fingers trailing on your skin light enough to ignite a sense of urgency in your nerves. You rocked your hips up into his, chuckling breathlessly at the groan you received from him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, beginning to pull his head away from you so that he could look at you.

Your mouth dried and you didn’t want his eyes on yours. With your hands, you gripped his hair and lightly pushed his head back down toward your neck, swallowing roughly. “Make me forget, Jungkook,” you told him. “Please.”

There was a pause and the tension between you was harsh, almost suffocating you as you waited, throbbing, underneath him. Then Jungkook moved and you let a relieved sigh escape your lips as he slightly lifted his head to kiss you. His eyes were closed and his mouth was rough, just as you wanted it.

His hands continued to shove your dress up until you could feel the breeze of the cool room against your bare skin. He barely glanced down to look at you as his hand found your undergarments, fingers caressing your most sensitive spot. You gasped softly, pulling away from his hungry kisses as he rubbed his fingers against you, the added friction of your underwear making you shudder.

“Do you want it?” he asked roughly, looking down at you.

You couldn’t meet his eyes and turned your head to the side, thighs opening wider to give him more room. “Yes,” you whispered.

“How badly do you want me?” Jungkook pressed, rubbing against your clit harder.

“So badly,” you breathed, a moan escaping. “I want you so bad, please—”

Jungkook nearly tore your undergarments off, yanking them roughly down your legs until you could kick them off, roughly maneuvering you as he did so, which you didn’t mind. He continued with your dress, actually ripping the seams on the back after he pulled you up a bit to get it off. You helped him as quickly as you could, pulling your arms out of it and then kicking the heavy thing off and tossing it to the floor.

Pausing to just look at you, splayed out beneath him, Jungkook gave you a strained yet soft smile. You didn’t want to see it. Instead, you grabbed at the hem of his own shirt and started tugging, wanting him to take it off. He snapped out of whatever it was he was thinking and helped you, undressing himself quickly until the two of you were bare before each other.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes trail down his body, taking in every inch of his beautiful form. Your gaze stopped at his cock, erect and red—it was larger than you’d thought. Would it even be able to fit inside of you? You paled for a second as you stared shamelessly at it.

Jungkook chuckled, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to your head. You looked up at him in slight alarm. “Don’t worry,” he reassured you. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Are you sure it’ll fit?” you asked in a small voice, unable to stop yourself.

With a choking cough, Jungkook looked away from you and bit his lip hard. When he turned back to you, his eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated and covering almost his entire irises. “Yes, it’ll fit,” he said gruffly. “I’ll prepare you first.”

“What do you mean, ‘prepare’ me—” You cut yourself off with a hitched gasp as one of his fingers slipped inside of you slowly. You clenched your fists and flopped back all the way onto the large bed, your cheeks and neck hot.

Jungkook leaned over you as he worked his finger inside of you, curling it and seemingly looking for something. When you peeked up at him, you could see that his eyes were focused completely on his movements between your thighs.

“I’ll prepare you with my fingers, first,” he said in a dark voice, another finger starting to slowly push inside of you. You groaned gutturally, screwing your eyes shut. “You’re already very wet, so it shouldn’t hurt when I replace my fingers with my cock.”

Your eyes were wide at his crude words and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at how he was looking at you—or, well, a part of you. The pleasure from his fingers was starting to take you over completely, the pressure from the second digit starting to disappear.

His thumb pressed against your clit and you moaned unbidden, the sound nearly tearing itself out of your throat. You quickly covered your face with your hands, not wanting him to see whatever faces you were making as he worked on pleasuring and preparing you.

“No one’s ever touched you like this?” Jungkook asked, his voice breathy and pleasant. You shook your head, pushing it back into the pillow as your back arched and your hips rocked up toward his fingers. “Gods, you’re beautiful. I could spend all day like this, watching you come undone on my fingers.”

“Please,” you begged, not sure what you were even asking for. “Please, Jungkook—”

“You want to come?” he asked. You nodded your head. “Answer me when I ask you a question.”

With a whimper, you moved your hands down your face and rested them on your chest. “Yes, please Jungkook, I want to come—”

“Then come,” he said easily. His fingers worked you harder, his thumb pressing against your clit deliciously and your mouth fell open as the ecstasy ran through your abdomen and through your entire body. You came around his fingers, clenching them erratically and rolling your hips up into his palm.

When the feeling had passed and you relaxed your tensed limbs, Jungkook’s fingers moved inside of you. You winced and wriggled, but he shushed you and moved his thumb away from your clit. You felt a third finger press against your folds and then he slipped it inside, all the way to the knuckle, along with the two still inside you.

“Jungkook—”

“You’ll need more than two fingers to be able to take my cock,” he told you gently, but when you glanced at his eyes you could see them flickering with something like delight. His fingers moved inside you slowly until you were moaning again, the slight pain turning to pleasure again. Jungkook groaned and his voice was unsteady when he spoke. “You’re so tight and wet, and all for me.”

You whimpered at his words, clenching around his fingers. “I’m ready, please, Jungkook, I want you—”

“Fuck,” he grunted, pulling his fingers out of you abruptly. You were left clenching around nothing and feeling strangely empty, but it didn’t last long. You peered down and saw Jungkook using the hand that was pleasuring you wrapped around himself and he was pumping his cock with it, letting out quiet hisses of bliss at the friction. He guided himself toward you and the head of his cock rubbed against your folds, gathering your slick.

You swallowed nervously and couldn’t help but tense up your body.

Jungkook noticed and used his other hand to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Are you ready?” he asked seriously. You couldn’t move away from him thanks to the hand on your jaw, but you knew he would pull away from you if you asked in that moment. You knew he was asking you are you sure you want this and not are you ready for me because you knew him.

“Yes,” you whispered, holding his gaze confidently.

Jungkook released your jaw and then pushed his cock inside of you slowly, eyes never leaving your face. Every time you tensed your body more or bit your lip, he stopped and waited for you to relax. It took a few moments, but eventually he was buried completely inside of you.

You were already sweating, your body feeling completely damp. Jungkook was right above you, his own hair damp and his breath heavy on your face. He held himself up and off of you, only touching you where his cock was sheathed in you, his hips against yours, and his thighs brushing yours. You let your hands press against his chest, dragging your hands up and down slowly. You were clenching tightly around his cock, still unable to relax completely. It felt more like an intrusion than anything you would willingly partake in, but you were sure the pain would ebb into pleasure soon.

Jungkook shuddered above you and you watched him curiously as you let your fingers caress his collarbones and up his neck to his jaw. His eyes fluttered shut and you could see him swallow. You raked your nails lightly down his neck and chest, letting your hands grip his sides. He shifted and then you felt him brush against something inside of you that made you arch your back and nearly cry out from the ecstasy that shot through your limbs.

“There?” he asked breathlessly. He pressed in even deeper, holding himself still against that spot inside of you and your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to get him in even deeper. Your arms moved of their own accord, going around his back and nails digging into his skin. “Does that feel good?” he teased.

You let out a puff of air and nodded your head, pulling him down against you completely. He nipped at the skin of your shoulder as you buried your head against his neck and pressed a chaste kiss to his warm skin. “Yes,” you answered shakily. “You can move now.”

With a shaky exhale, Jungkook shifted and then pulled his cock out slowly. You made a strangled noise, the sensation strange and foreign. Then he pushed back in slowly, starting a gentle pace in and out as you adjusted to the new feelings between your thighs. You were throbbing and he let you hold him as tightly as you desired, his chest brushing your breasts lightly. His hand ran down the side of your body and he slipped it between your bodies, fingers finding your clit easily and rubbing circles against it.

“Faster,” you breathed, arching your back and throwing your head back against the pillow. Jungkook groaned and didn’t quicken his pace, simply looking down at you curiously.

“I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Please,” you whispered, shutting your eyes and clinging to him tighter. “Harder.” You didn’t dare open your eyes and look at him, simply letting yourself lose your senses in the movements of his cock and hands.

He complied with your request, pulling back from your body and then slamming into you roughly, making you cry out in surprise. It was as if he became a beast, his hands grabbing hold of your hips and yanking you toward him as he sat back on the bed, thrusting his cock in and out of you harshly. Your hands slipped off of his shoulders and you fisted them in the sheets of the bed, moaning unabashedly at how blissful it felt.

The pain strangely offered you a newer sensation, mixing with pleasure deliciously. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t want him to stop. No, you wanted more.

Clenching around his cock, you moved your hands back up to his forearms for purchase as he pistoned in and out of you relentlessly. His quiet grunts as he rocked his hips into yours only fueled your pleasure, the ecstasy spreading from where you were joined to your abdomen once again. You took in a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut as you came undone a second time, this time around his cock.

As the pleasure ebbed away, you winced at Jungkook’s continued movements. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked quietly, still thrusting into you harshly. You grabbed one of his hands and swallowed, moving it away from your hip. You pulled yourself backwards, off of his still hard and leaking cock, and he bit his lip as he watched you.

When he started to shift away from you, you squeezed his hand to stop him. Jungkook watched you curiously, unsure of what you wanted from him. You yanked on his hand to bring him forward and he took the hint, letting you maneuver him until he was seated against the headboard of the bed. You licked your lips and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth while you straddled his lip, positioning yourself above his no doubt aching cock.

You slowly sat down, using one hand to guide him in properly. With a hiss, you felt the head of his cock push past your folds and into you. Somehow, he felt much bigger in this position. You could barely make out his expression as you were too focused on fitting him in completely, but you could tell he was holding himself back from making any movements while waiting for you.

Once you were fully seated on his cock and your slick was dripping onto his thighs, you fluttered your eyes open and met his hungry gaze immediately. Jungkook let his palms rest on your thighs, where he slowly trailed them up to your hips, his fingers caressing you tenderly.

“You’re so big,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck while you adjusted to the stretch once again.

Jungkook groaned and pulled you closer, both of you moaning when you rolled your hips and clenched around him. “You don’t know how dangerous you are,” he breathed, letting his forehead rest against yours and his eyes shut. “It’s taking every bit of self-control that I possess not to fuck you until you’re crying.”

You couldn’t help but smile shyly at him, even though he couldn’t see it. “Why don’t you, then?” you said teasingly.

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open and he peered at you darkly. “It would be wise to keep your mouth shut before I find another use for it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words, but then he thrust upwards and your giggles turned into gasps for air and quiet moans. One of his hands found its way to your clit again, rubbing the throbbing area until you were almost wildly bucking into his hand, clenching erratically around his cock. His other hand trailed up from your hip to your hair at the base of your neck, gripping it tightly in his fist and yanking your head back to bare your neck.

“I think you need a lesson,” he growled against your skin, biting down hard on your throat while he fucked up into you. Your fingers found their way to his hair and and you fisted the strands sporadically while you moved along with him, feeling as if every nerve in your body was screaming, drowning you in a pleasure you’d never known before.

It didn’t take long for you to orgasm again, your hips stuttering as he rolled his own upwards, his cock dragging against your clenching walls heavily, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders for support. His fingers didn’t stop moving against your clit, his cock still shoving into you roughly, and it all helped you drag out your pleasure until tears were spilling from your eyes, all of your feelings crashing into you at once along with the pleasure.

You held Jungkook to you tightly as he chased his own release, breathing heavily while he left a trail of sloppy kisses against your shoulder and neck. It took only a few more strokes until he was coming, tugging on your hair and pulling you close, his fingers moving from your clit to wrap around your back and hold you to him while he emptied his seed inside of you. You shuddered at the warmth filling you, squeezing tightly around him to try to prolong his pleasure.

When it was all over, the two of you sat there, holding each other close, the tears in your eyes freely flowing down your cheeks. You had no doubt that Jungkook knew you were crying, but he said nothing. He released his grip on your hair and let his hand drag down your back gently, still hugging you close to him. You could feel his come start to drip out of you, his cock softening inside you until it started to slip out as well.

Jungkook didn’t make a move to shift the two of you, allowing you to take a moment that you so desperately needed. You used one hand to rub at your eyes and cheeks, wiping the tears away, and you shakily exhaled as you pulled away from him. His arms relaxed around you so that you could pull back, and you met his dark eyes. Looking away from him, you shifted your hips up so that his cock slipped out of you, grimacing at the dripping release that followed it.

Neither of you spoke as he helped you clean yourself up and then the two of you prepared for bed. Once you were both comfortably laying underneath the furs, Jungkook turned to look at you beside him. You turned your own head toward him, watching him silently and waiting.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, almost whispering. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You allowed yourself a brief smile as Jungkook reached over and gently caressed the side of your face with his fingertips. “No,” you whispered back, trying to ignore the swell of the ache in your chest. “You didn’t hurt me.”

The morning had been stiff and odd, soreness settling into your limbs and making you wince with each movement. Jungkook had risen the same time as you, both of you muttering quietly as you spoke briefly—neither of you were used to waking beside another.

Jungkook had left a mere moments ago when there was a knock at the door. You were still seated by the mirror in the room, head turning to call for whoever it was to enter. When the door opened, you saw your mother’s bright face peeking in and you smiled. At the sight of you alone, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her, walking over to you with something clasped in her hands.

“How was it, my sweet child?” she asked, a smirk on her face. Your cheeks felt hot and you were violently aware of the marks littered on your neck and down your chest. The servants had not been in yet, but you knew your mother could clearly see what she was looking for on the sheets, barely covered by the furs.

“Mother,” you chided, voice muffled with embarrassment. “That’s not proper—”

“Oh, please,” she waved off, coming closer to you and putting a hand on your shoulder. “Men will be men. As your mother, I want to know that my daughter is being taken care of.”

You sighed aggressively, rolling your eyes. “It was fine.” At her raised eyebrows, you curled in on yourself a bit. “He was just fine. I didn’t know I could feel like that,” you muttered, almost under your breath.

She chuckled and nodded her head. “Good. Now, here, drink this,” she continued, holding out a small vial to you with a liquid you didn’t recognize inside. At your questioning look, she finished speaking. “It’s to help with fertility. You need to cement this union with a child soon.”

You pursed your lips but took the vial from her nonetheless. Going down your throat, the liquid was bitter, but you held back the cough as you handed it back to her. She smiled sweetly at you and patted your shoulder.

“I will be with you a while longer,” she said. “There is nothing much for me to return home to, as things are.”

The ache that had dulled in your chest grew sharp at her words. You couldn’t speak even as she left the room, and you fidgeted with your fingers where you sat. Tears sprung to your eyes and you sat where you were, crying as quietly as you could manage. Even as the maids came in and inspected the sheets before removing them, replacing them with new ones, you sat and wept for all that you had lost—you were not sure that what you had gained could ever overshadow the grief.

You stretched your arms and back, letting out a satisfied groan when you felt the crack in your stiff muscles. Jungkook had gone out to speak with the soldiers and heads of the Houses, and you had just finished up your breakfast when your mother came into your room, precisely at the time she did every morning these days.

“Again?” you huffed.

Your mother clucked her tongue at you as she held out the same vial to you, which you took with a grumble about the taste every morning. “You know it’s important for you to produce an heir, my darling. Once you are with child, there won’t be a need for these visits.”

You rolled your eyes but drank the bitter liquid anyway, crinkling your nose as you swallowed it down in one go. “It’s been weeks, Mother, surely it’s helped as much as it could with fertility by now. We wouldn’t know, anyway, if I were with child already.”

She didn’t say anything, instead sitting across from you and helping herself to some of your almost finished breakfast. You let her, setting the vial down on the table and sighing. With her mouth full, your mother started to speak. “And how is our king? Can I assume he’s still as enthusiastic as he was on your wedding night?”

Your neck felt warm and you huffed loudly, crossing your arms. “Mother! How can you ask me that so easily?”

She smiled at you wickedly. “Everyone can hear you two, you know. It’s a little unnerving hearing the servants and a few others talking about your daughter’s activities with her husband, but thank the gods I’m staying nowhere near this room—”

“Okay, okay, enough!” you yelped, shaking your hands out to get her to stop. She laughed heartily, but you couldn’t stop the embarrassment that filled your gut. Though you knew by now that if Jungkook knew about this, he’d be thrilled—he did often whisper huskily in your ear to be louder, to let everyone know how good he was making you feel.

There was a knock on the door to your shared quarters and a guard poked his head in after you called out for whoever it was to enter. You stood from your chair, your mother quickly doing the same.

“My Queen,” he said gruffly. “Your presence has been requested by the King. You are to come at once.”

You nodded your head, letting the smile slip from your lips and a more serious expression settling in place. “Take me to him,” you told the guard. He nodded, opening the door fully and waiting for you. Turning to your mother, you found her already looking at you. “I’ll come visit you soon,” you said softly. She nodded her head and took the empty vial with her before she left ahead of you, walking down the hall. You walked out of your room and the guard shut it behind you before he escorted you to the main hall that was used to welcome in guests.

When you entered, you saw Jungkook seated on one side of the large table, two men seated across from him. Your husband looked at you warmly and quietly motioned for you to take a seat beside him, which you did with ease. He reached over and gripped your hand under the table, intertwining your fingers with his. You tried to keep the small smile off of your lips, but you knew you weren’t too successful in your attempt.

“These are two of Lord Frey’s sons,” Jungkook introduced, squeezing your hand.

You swallowed nervously and smiled at them. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lords.”

One of the men looked you up and down, his gaze lingering on your chest for a few moments too long. You tried not to scowl or roll your eyes. “So this is who you married instead of one of our sisters.” Jungkook cleared his throat. The man continued, not letting your husband utter a single word. “No matter. We come bearing news from our Lord Father. He is a forgiving man, our father. He wants to make you an offer.”

Jungkook leaned forward a bit, interested. You didn’t know much about the strategies, but you knew that House Frey was better to have on your side rather than the enemy’s. Everyone knew Walder Frey was not a man so easily crossed. “And what is this offer?”

“If your uncle takes your place and marries one of our sisters, all will be forgiven,” the other man said, leering at you in a way that made you uncomfortable. “But he demands that they be wed immediately, so that you cannot go back on your oath a second time.”

Jungkook cast his eyes down for a split second before he looked back up at them. “It will be arranged. We make for the wedding tonight, then.”

The men smiled and then stood, prompting the two of you to stand as well. Jungkook dropped your hand on the way, keeping it at his side. He shook hands with the two men and then they were escorted out of the room, where they were to gather their things and then make their way back home along with everyone here.

Jungkook had a soldier outside call for his mother and uncle to come to the hall, where he would go over everything with them. You wondered how his uncle would take the news—not well, you were sure. The news of your own sudden betrothal had come as a shock, even if it had been under slightly different circumstances than Jungkook’s uncle’s. You had an inkling that he would respond in a similar way as you had, or in a way much more exaggerated than you had—men had a tendency to express their emotions more often.

When both of them had appeared, Jungkook paused for a few minutes of tense silence before he decided to break the news.

“Uncle,” he said. “Arrangements have been made for your marriage to a Frey girl.”

There was an almost instantaneous burst from his uncle, as you’d expected. “What is the meaning of this? Why was I not consulted before the decision?”

Jungkook’s face was emotionless as he stared at his uncle, looking every bit a King in the North. “There was no need to consult you. We do not want the Frey House in our bad graces forever, and this is what they demand for crossing them.”

“So I will be fixing your mistake, then—”

“Careful, Uncle,” Jungkook said lowly. A shiver ran down your spine at his tone. “I may be your nephew, but I am still your king.”

The sentence shut the older man up, his face turning red with humiliation. You simply stood in silence, glancing between the men. Jungkook’s mother stood by the window, watching her brother and her son argue. You wondered how it felt for her.

Jungkook continued in the face of the silent but fuming man. “The Freys clearly want a powerful alliance and we have snubbed them already after making an oath. We cannot afford to make another enemy of a House, not when we are fighting for peace and the freedom of our people.” He turned to give his uncle a disappointed look. “Is your comfort more important than the future of our Northmen?”

At least at these words, Jungkook’s uncle had the decency to look embarrassed. He lowered his head, unable to meet Jungkook’s eyes. “No,” he nearly spit out. “It is not, Your Grace.”

“Good,” Jungkook replied without missing a beat. “Then prepare yourselves. We will be leaving at once to make our way to Lord Frey’s keep.”

His uncle bowed his head and then turned to leave, slamming the door behind him. You tried not to roll your eyes and turned toward your husband, only to find his mother already beside him.

“Are you sure about this, my son?” she asked quietly. There was a strange look in her eye but you did not question it.

Jungkook sighed and let his shoulders relax now that it was only the three of you in the hall. He faced you briefly and the tired look on his face prompted you to walk over to them and grab his hand with yours to comfort him.

“What else is there to do?” he asked. “I have no more options. If I hope to win this war, I need more men on my side rather than the Lannister’s. This will be a way to fix both the rift between our Houses and get more men. Refusing Lord Frey isn’t an option.”

His mother paused, looking down at your intertwined hands and you thought you saw the ghost of a smile crack on her stern face. When she met her son’s eyes, the smile had gone. “Do what you think is right for your people. You always have.”

With those words, she parted, leaving the room to go prepare herself to leave for the wedding. Jungkook turned to face you fully when she left, releasing your hand so he could grip your upper arms lightly and look at you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, though it almost sounded like it hurt him to say it. Like he wanted to say something else, but held back. “With me.” He shifted his hands up your arms and the sides of your neck until they were cradling your face gently.

“Me too,” you replied, keeping your voice soft and gentle. You couldn’t meet his eyes, the guilt of your statement gnawing at your insides like a ravenous beast, even as his touch on your skin ignited sparks of a flame.

Jungkook leaned forward, resting his forehead on yours. You raised your hands and placed them atop his on your cheeks, letting your eyes flutter shut as he breathed in deeply. Your husband was a just and fair ruler to his people, you knew that despite what had happened, but you could tell he was feeling the burden that had been placed on his shoulders.

“My father would have liked you,” he whispered, losing himself in his thoughts. You bit the inside of your cheek, remembering that you hadn’t been the only one to lose someone amongst the Northerners. It was a painful reminder.

“I wish I could have met him,” you told him, gripping his hands a little tighter.

“As do I.” He sighed slowly and his thumbs started to caress your cheeks absentmindedly. “One of the last things he told me before he went to King’s Landing was that being a Lord was like being a father.”

“How so?” you asked.

“It’s like you have thousands of children,” Jungkook said. “You wake with fear in the morning and go to bed with fear in the night. The farmers are yours to protect. The children and women scrubbing the floors are yours to protect. The men you order to fight for you are yours to protect.” He pulled back a bit to look at you, smiling with only the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t believe him, you know. I asked him how a man could be brave if he was afraid.”

“What did he say?”

Jungkook chuckled. “‘That is the only time a man can be brave,’ he said.”

You allowed yourself to laugh briefly as well. “Your father was a wise man.” Getting the words out were harder than you expected, a lump forming in your throat.

“Yes, he was,” Jungkook continued. “He was the best man I ever met.” Pulling away from you completely, your husband brushed his fingers across your cheek before he dropped his arm to his side. “We’d better get on our way, as well.”

You nodded your head and followed beside your king as the two of you left the hall and made your way to your quarters to pack what little you had brought with you.

The lot of you were gathered in front of Lord Frey and all his many children and grandchildren. You shifted uncomfortably every time any of their eyes landed on you, standing beside Jungkook.

“My Lord,” Jungkook started confidently, stepping a little forward. “You have my sincerest apologies.”

“You broke your oath,” Lord Frey returned, a nasty smirk on his face. “Your father would not have.”

You could see the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders at the lord’s words. “You are right,” he said calmly, lowering his head briefly. “I should not have done so. It was wrong of me to break my word.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” the lord continued dismissively. You could tell he was enjoying all of this, even if everyone else looked extremely uncomfortable. You tried not to let it show how uneasy you were at being here. “It is my girls who you spurned.”

There was a pause and Lord Frey gestured with his arms for his daughters to step forward. They did, coming to the front in a very long line. You tried to count them all but there were too many of them. You had heard numerous times from your parents having attended multiple weddings of Walder Frey himself that he had married many young girls. It seemed every time a wife of his passed, he would find himself another.

He made you sick.

“Your father is right,” Jungkook said, his voice much softer now than it had been when addressing the lord. “It was wrong of me to treat you, and my oath, with such disregard. The fault is not with you; it is with me. All men should keep their words, and kings most of all. I pledge to do all that is in my power to amend these wrongs so that our Houses may continue to be friends.”

The old lord clapped his hands almost mockingly and his daughters returned to their original places, no longer standing in a visible line. You wondered how the old man had the courage to so blatantly disrespect the King in the North, but you supposed he knew there was not much that Jungkook could do to him right now.

“Very good,” the lord said loudly, smirking at Jungkook. Then his eyes turned to you, dragging up and down your form in a way that made you wish you had another cloak over your shoulders. “And there is the bride you broke your oath for.” He leaned forward in his seat and narrowed his eyes at you. “Come closer, dear. Let me have a look at you.”

You fidgeted, glancing at Jungkook. He turned his head and met your gaze, giving you a small nod. Stepping forward, you bowed your head briefly to the lord. You glanced around the room, noting how all of the Frey men eyed you up along with their lord. It was disgusting. You wished you hadn’t come.

“Very pretty,” he said appraisingly. “Quite beautiful, indeed. Alright, enough of that. The servants will help you all to your accommodations and then we will feast.”

You breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped back and tried not to completely shy away into Jungkook’s side. When you were all led out of the hall and to your own rooms, Jungkook made sure to stick close to you even though he wasn’t touching you.

Once you were in your quarters, your bags having already been placed there before you, you turned and faced Jungkook. He placed a hand on your cheek and then leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, leaving you flustered.

“Whatever happens tonight,” he started, “stay close to me, alright?”

“Are you afraid they’ll try something?” you asked curiously.

Jungkook sighed and shook his head. “Lord Frey is a dangerous man, but he’s not stupid. It wouldn’t do well to start a fight with me and my men here. But I want you safe.”

“I will be safe,” you promised. “I have you, don’t I?”

Jungkook chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close into a warm embrace. “Yes, you do,” he mumbled into your hair softly. “You’ll always have me.”

You wrapped your own arms around him, holding him close to you as you shut your eyes.

It would be a long night ahead.

The chatter during the feast was loud and servants were walking around refilling goblets with wine and replenishing the food that was being eaten by the hungry Northerners. You spotted a few of your own men seated at tables or standing around flirting with the women, having fun. You could even spot a few people dancing to the merry tunes the band was playing.

Your eyes landed on Jungkook’s uncle, seated happily by his new bride—who turned out to be quite a beautiful girl—eating berries from her hand while she laughed. You couldn’t help but have to hold back a chuckle at the sight, as the entire way here he had been moaning and complaining about the marriage. But now he was sat beside his bride, enjoying himself completely. You tried not to think ill of your husband’s uncle, but he was indeed extremely shallow. Just a look at a beautiful girl and he was forgetting himself, completely overjoyed.

“That could have been you, up there,” you teased, turning toward Jungkook, who was sitting beside you. He was comfortable, leaned back in his chair, the food on his plate nearly completely gone and the wine in his goblet having been refilled at least twice. “Eating berries from a beautiful girl’s hand, enjoying yourself.”

Jungkook hummed, sending you a small smirk. “Maybe I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Your mouth fell open and you faced him fully, making to smack your hand against his chest for the jab. He caught your wrist easily and his smirk turned into a wolfish grin. “Striking your king is treason, you know.”

You lifted a brow at his words and cocked your head to the side teasingly. Jungkook pulled you toward him with the hand in his grip and you pushed at him lightly when he made to kiss you. “No, don’t,” you mumbled, leaning away from him. “Don’t insult them.”

Jungkook grumbled but did as you asked, leaning back in his chair and dropping your wrist. You sat back in your chair as well, just in time it seemed. The loud music in the dining feast started to quiet, the new happy couple stealing glances at each other seated up by Lord Frey.

“Your Grace,” the man called. “Your uncle has wrapped my daughter in a cloak and the Septon has prayed his prayers. But they are not yet man and wife! A sword needs a sheath, and a wedding needs a bedding!” There were roars of laughter around you and you grimaced. How could a man utter such words at his own daughter’s wedding? You supposed you were luckier than most to have married Jungkook, even if the wedding had been cloaked in despair and death. “What does my sire say?”

The men around all of you started to cheer and slam their cups into the tables. “Bed! Bed! Bed!”

Jungkook smiled and sat up in his chair. “If you think the time is right, Lord Frey, then by all means—let us bed them!”

Applause and cheers broke out as the Northerners rushed forward to make a grab for the newlyweds. Jungkook’s uncle was laughing along with the women and girls who grabbed at his clothes and started to undress him as they went, though you could see the Frey bride’s unease as the men carried her out, shedding her of her outer clothes.

You tried not to shake your head at the sight, remaining in your seat instead. Jungkook reached over and held your hand comfortingly in his, sending you a smile. The large doors shut loudly after the couple was led out along with the men and women, and only a handful remained—including a lot of your own men. You leaned toward your husband, but then Lord Frey’s voice rang out again in the quieted hall, a strangely familiar tune playing from the band.

“Your Grace,” he called out. “I’m afraid I’ve been remiss in my duties. I’ve given you meat, and wine, and music, but I haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve. My King has married and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift!” The lord chuckled as he spoke, but something about his voice and the way he was looking at the two of you made you uneasy.

You glanced over at Jungkook, whose eyes were on the lord’s, and you caught the barest glimpse of something in the light. You started to turn in your seat and saw a hand with a tight grip come down toward your king. You couldn’t process what was happening until you heard Jungkook’s pained grunt, his hand loosening around yours.

It was a knife.

Your eyes widened and you started to scream as the man stabbed Jungkook’s abdomen repeatedly with his blade, blood splattering on your hand gripped in your husband’s, and spilling from his clothes. Jungkook released your hand to grip at his wounds while the man hurriedly shifted away so that he couldn’t grab him. Your hands started to reach for Jungkook.

You were still screaming when hands gripped your arms, yanking you out of your seat and away from Jungkook. You could vaguely hear shouts and the sound of metal slashing against armor and skin, the faint sound of Jungkook’s mother screaming her son’s name, but your eyes were focused on him and him alone. He tried to get up from his seat and failed, groaning with pain as his men were slaughtered alongside him.

“Let me go!” you shouted, thrashing against whoever was holding you. “Please, please, let me go—let me go!” The man didn’t listen to you, simply holding you against him in place as he moved away from the bloody scene. A hand came up to cover your mouth when you started screaming incoherently.

Your wide eyes took in the scene of carnage, Northern men falling into puddles of their own blood, the band shooting arrows from their crossbows at any Northerner still standing, and you could feel the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. Jungkook crumpled to the floor from his seat, cradling his torso as blood pooled underneath him. With a quick sweep of the room, you could see that it was your men along with the Freys who were weilding bloody weapons.

What had they done?

As the screams and shouts had faded, almost everyone lying dead on the floor, you spotted Jungkook’s mother standing in front of Lord Frey, a knife in her own hand and blood dripping down her arm and to the floor. Jungkook was gripping the side of a table, pulling himself up shakily onto his feet, one hand still pressed uselessly to his bleeding stomach.

“Enough!” she shouted, voice thick. “Let it end! Please… he is my son. Let him go and we will take no vengeance, I swear it! By the old gods and new, we will forget this!”

“You already swore me one oath—you swore by all the gods your son would marry my daughter!” Lord Frey shouted back, comfortably seated in his chair.

“Jungkook!” she cried, turning to face her staggering son. “Jungkook, get up! Get up and walk out, please!” Your chest was wracked with silent sobs as the man held you, his hand still covering your mouth, and you cried helplessly at the desperation in her voice, the same desperation filling you. “Please!”

Lord Frey scoffed. “And why would I let him do that?”

Jungkook was standing now on his own, facing his mother. Then he turned back, his dark eyes finding yours. You fought against the grip around you harder, trying to get to him.

You spotted a man making his way toward Jungkook and you screamed, tried to make Jungkook understand that he needed to leave, needed to get away from the man. With a shock, you realized the man making his way to Jungkook was Eunwoo. Had this all been arranged before with your mother and Eunwoo, along with your men?

He grabbed your husband by his shoulder and stood completely in front of him. Brandishing a knife, he mumbled something quietly to Jungkook, and then he plunged the knife into his gut once more. Yanking it out, Eunwoo stepped away and left Jungkook to crumple once again to the ground, into his own blood, completely limp.

The grip around you loosened enough for you to stumble forward, falling to your knees. Staggering forward, you made your way over to Jungkook and fell once again to your knees at his side. You could feel the damp blood seeping into your dress, but you paid it no mind as you cried, your hands desperately clinging to Jungkook, his eyes open and staring up at nothing.

You looked up and saw someone grab Jungkook’s mother and shift their blade against her skin, slitting her throat, and she fell to the floor in a heap as blood spurted from the slice. You turned back to your husband and king, laying lifeless in front of you as the men hurried to and fro, cheering for their victory against the King in the North.

Your hands grabbed at his chest and torso, coming away sticky with his blood, and you shakily placed them against his cheeks. His dark eyes were unseeing and you couldn’t stop sobbing, not paying any mind to anything else that was happening around you.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, the tears still falling. “You can’t leave me, please,” you cried. “Please don’t leave me, you have to stay with me, Jungkook, please—don’t you remember?” The tears fell onto his face while you asked, a small pained smile making its way onto your face. “You said I would always have you. That’s what you said, Jungkook. You can’t leave—” You broke off into muffled sobs, unable to continue speaking.

There was no answer.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his, weeping for another loss amidst the deafening shouts and cheers of the men around you.

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elizabeth-mitchells · 3 years ago

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follow you to the beginning (just to relive the start) - Sam/Deena - Fake Dating AU

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Peter (Fear Street Part 1: 1994), Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Simon Kalivoda, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Deena Johnson & Kate Schmidt, Deena Johnson & Simon Kalivoda, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Simon Kalivoda, Josh Johnson (Fear Street), Peter (Fear Street Part 1: 1994), Background & Cameo Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Lesbian Character, Slow Burn, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Best Friends, High School, Angst, Humor, Fluff, First Love, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Jealousy, Mutual Pining Summary: Sam and Deena are next-door neighbors, and they inevitably and enthusiastically become best friends... until childhood gives way to tragedy, grudges, and regret.

By the time they make it to high school, Sam and Deena are still next-door neighbors but also sworn enemies... until high school introduces bigger threats that they will need to face together.

Faking a relationship might be a bad idea. But it might be the only way for Sam and Deena to understand their shared past and their feelings for each other.

Chapter 2:

If they had known from the start the rollercoaster that their lives would be because of each other, there is a chance Sam and Deena would have done things differently. But that is the thing about roller coasters, before you get in, it seems like a good idea. And going up and up toward the sky feels like the easiest, most effortless thing in the world. But then there’s the fall…

Sam and Deena’s friendship evolved similarly. Since that perfect summer day, life only got better and better for them. Every game was a life-changing adventure, every afternoon was endless, every evening they promised to do it all over again the next day. Without noticing, they were slowly but surely growing up. They were becoming girls with likes and dislikes and things that made them unique. In all their pictures Sam smiled widely even with her missing front tooth, and Deena always seemed to have some kind of stain on her overalls, but they were always happy, always with their arms around each other.

The promised land of the backyard behind their houses was growing and changing too. A set of swings appeared one day on the Frasers’ side, even if it was just an apology from Sam’s dad, or maybe he would have to apologize for it, Sam was starting to lose track of the things that angered her mother. But the two girls would the best of times on it. Then came a small treehouse on top of the big tree that Deena spent her childhood climbing. The two girls would spend hours up there, and sometimes Mrs. Johnson would join them, until she started claiming it was too much to get up there at all.

For Sam, the Johnson family was heaven. Mr. Johnson called her kiddo and ruffled her hair, Mrs. Johnson helped her clean up before returning to her house, and gave them sandwiches if Sam helped Deena up to look into the kitchen window from the garden. Since little Josh started talking he appeared to be enchanted by Sam, and a little terrified. Everyone thought it was adorable, except for Deena, who made her best friend promise that she’d never choose Josh instead of her.

As content as Sam and Deena were in the glory of their backyard, they also had to attend school like all other kids at some point. The two girls were still inseparable, but it was a matter of time before two other kids joined them. One day, Sam guided a little blonde boy by the hand to introduce him to Deena. Simon had on his face three of the cute bandaids Sam carried with her at all times, and his smile was so bright and harmless and he made Sam laugh so much that Deena was happy to have him stick with them at school. Then there was Kate, who held her head so high it made her look taller than all the other kids somehow. And the day Deena tried to pick up a fight with her, she ended up being scolded by Kate and asking her to hang out with them. Their small group of friends was completed. They all were happier than ever. And then… the fall.

Things started to change. Shadyside kids always had to face things much younger than children in more privileged towns. So, Deena asked Kate to search for the meaning of chemotherapy in the dictionary, so she could understand why her mother stopped going to work and why her dad couldn’t buy her a new bike. Next door, Sam decided it was worth it to stop doing some things she liked, and playing the games she wanted, and even laughing as loud as she felt like, as long as her mother would be less angry, and her parents yelled a little less. And Kate and Simon couldn’t always hang out with them, they had to help in their own houses in any way they could until they were old enough to get part-time jobs, which wouldn’t be too long anymore.

Real roller coasters, after a big fall, they go up again and again. But, for a while, all Sam and Deena and their respective families knew was falling down and down until they crashed and burned to the ground.

Deena’s mother couldn’t leave her bed anymore. Instead of helping, her father was drinking. Josh wouldn’t eat anything Deena tried to cook. Her best friend was locked in the house next to hers, grounded for something stupid like getting a stain on a dress. It was all too much. That was the first time that Deena threw a rock at the Frasers’ window and broke it.

Sam appreciated the way Deena hated her mother on her behalf, admired the way Deena stood up to her, and couldn’t help but hate the way that Deena’s courage only made things worse for her.

Sam’s mother had a lot of reasons to be angry. Her daughter spent too much time with the girl next door who was clearly a bad influence, and she idolized the woman next door in a way that would hurt her soon enough, and the then man next door was inviting her husband to go out and get so drunk she had to clean up his vomit from their carpet the next day. Her husband, friendly and charming as ever, was cheating on her but he always played the good cop and Sam adored him more than she’d ever liked her. Her greatest dream had been to leave Shadyside but right before her escape she’d ended up pregnant, and when she made one last desperate grasp for freedom with a threat of divorce, her husband, the “good guy”, told her to keep the house and the daughter, because he had a “friend” in Sunnyvale who could help him.

Sam, however, didn’t know any of that. She only knew an unreasonably angry mother that slapped her when she felt like it and locked her in her bedroom when her best friend needed her the most.

Deena, similarly, didn’t know Sam was risking her own wellbeing every time she sneaked out the window to console her whenever her mother had to go to the hospital, or whenever Sam took the blame for the broken windows that were Deena’s only outlet for her anger.

Among the things they didn’t know yet, were the reasons why they were starting to feel so tense and nervous around each other, and why their friends made it all even worse. Because one day Simon confessed he had a crush on Sam, and Deena didn’t know why that made her punch him. And one day Sam saw Kate kiss Deena’s cheek, and she didn't know why that made her start crying. They were all supposed to be friends, just friends forever, but not in the same way Sam and Deena were friends.

It was the last summer before high school started and instead of perfect days, the tension between both households was higher than ever. The Frasers built a fence between their backyards, and the shock of that unfathomable barrier suddenly separating them and putting an end to their precious childhood, made Sam and Deena cry in shock. They decided to do something in protest, and they sneaked out of their houses, took their bikes, and got a little lost in the familiar Shadyside streets.

Deena’s mother died while she was out there having the time of her life with Sam. Maybe Sam was the only one to hold Deena for hours and cry along with her behind the big tree at the end of the fence that separated their homes. But Deena’s brain couldn’t separate the feeling of having Sam’s company and having her heart ripped to shreds by her mother’s death.

The day after the funeral, the windows of the Frasers’ living room were all broken. Mrs. Fraser, surprisingly, didn’t have the guts to demand that the grieving family pay for it, but she prohibited Sam from ever hanging out with Deena again, and to kill two birds with one stone, she announced the divorce. So Sam was losing her father, getting stuck with her evil mother, and losing her best friend… all because of her best friend.

In the end, they couldn’t hold back anymore. Deena returned home one day and this time Sam was waiting for her in her front yard.

“It’s the last time I take the blame for you, Deena,” Sam said.

“It wasn’t me,” Deena replied, and rolled her eyes.

Sam tightened her hands into fists and pushed past the sour taste in her mouth to say, “You’re selfish. You’re destructive. And you don’t bring anything good to my life.”

“Nice,” Deena answered quietly. Her jaw clenched and she frowned. In the back of her mind, she knew those weren’t Sam’s words, but they had come from her nonetheless. “You’re not the first one to tell me that so don’t feel special.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam blurted out, she couldn’t avoid it. “But if you attack my house again I’ll…uh, I’ll tell the police.”

Deena laughed and Sam couldn’t help noticing it was a mean laugh that never before had the brunette sent her way. “That’s cute, Sam. But I have bigger problems than your fragile home.”

Deena tried to walk away, but Sam chased after her. “Deena!” Sam yelled her name and tightly grabbed her arm to turn her around to face her. “You’re ruining my life!”

“Well, good! Because you’ve ruined mine!”

They were yelling at each other faces, but not even in the quietest of whispers they could have explained what they meant. Sam couldn’t say she blamed Deena for her parents’ divorce. Deena couldn’t say she blamed Sam for her mother’s death. They couldn’t even put into words why it was even more than that. All they knew is that Sam’s hand was still gripping Deena’s arm and though they both felt the pull to bring each other closer, they ended up doing the entire opposite.

They pushed each other, again and again. Sam was the first one to fall, but she brought Deena down with her. It was the first time they fought, but they were in the front yard, not in the safety of the rose bushes and trees of the backyard where they grew up. Their neighbors were watching, their families pulled them apart, and it was the official ending of their friendship. They couldn’t erase that fight, and they didn’t manage to move on from it.

The moment Sam and Deena met, there were no witnesses. Occasionally, Deena’s mother looked out the window and saw her daughter smile brightly, the way she would rarely do for years after her death. Or Sam’s mother would go out to drag her daughter back in after seeing her fall on the mud with the other little girl again. As the years passed, Josh would see the way his sister treated him better whenever Sam was around. Their fathers, when they were home, learned to play with both girls, accepting they were inseparable. Kate and Simon would almost but not quite end up annoyed by the perfect friendship between Sam and Deena. They were witness to their friendship, of course, but not entirely. Because nobody was there for the most important moments.

Nobody ever got to see Sam brush Deena’s hair after her mother started slipping away, or Deena always carrying an extra sweater because Sam was always cold or uncomfortable in her own clothes. There was nobody eavesdropping when they promised to be friends forever, promised not to leave, promised nothing would pull them apart. It was just them, when they laughed until they cried, when they hid in the treehouse from Sam’s mother, and shoplifted candy bars from the local store, and put the prettiest flowers on each other’s hair.

But then, when everything changed, there were just too many eyes on them.

The rumors reached the Shadyside high school before Sam and Deena first set foot there. Gossip spread like fire in that little tragic town of theirs. People said Sam’s father had cheated on his ex-wife with Deena’s mother before she died. People said the Frasers put the fence because Deena was robbing them. People said Sam’s father left town to avoid paying back a debt to Deena’s father. But the one thing everyone in high school was saying was that Sam and Deena had hated each other their entire lives, all their neighbors had seen them fight every day in their front yard, the two girls couldn’t stand the sight of each other.

Sam and Deena started high school and then they just didn’t do anything to stop the rumors. It was easier to let people believe whatever they wanted than to explain it all. Why would they attempt to explain to strangers that they never hated each other, that they used to be best friends in a way that felt as vital as breathing, and that even now the absence of the other one was more significant than the majority of things in their lives? That they couldn’t actually hate each other if they tried, and that they were too young to make sense of the way that thinking of the other one brought pain and joy in equal measures, that each other’s names were a synonym of the best and worst days of their lives and that it was just too much for them.

It was easier, then, to go along with it, and even feed the rumors. Deena pushed Sam on the hallways, and Sam made Deena stumble on her way to her seat in the classrooms. Deena flipped Sam off from a distance, and Sam called her a bitch when she passed by. During soccer, Deena kicked the ball toward Sam’s face, and during lunch, Sam dropped her food on Deena’s lap.

It was petty, it was annoying, but it was one way to still have each other in their lives. Maybe they could have stayed enemies for their entire lives until they inherited their parents’ houses, vices, and grudges. But that’s when a much bigger threat finally took them by surprise and put their lives completely upside down. It was time for their own personal rollercoaster to start moving again, faster and more violently than before.

#helloo please support #fear street #sameena #sam x deena #sam fraser #deena johnson #deena x sam #fear street fanfic #fear street fanfiction #fs #my fic

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singingunderthecurtain · 4 years ago

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God, Is That You? | 20190321

Author: @julietsoddeye Genre: Angst | Fluff | Fantasy AU Pairing: Xiumin x Female Reader (ft. Taeyong) Warning: Language | Mention of ONS

Plot: Dear Diary, hopefully this is just a dream because this is not how he said it should be!

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You were awoken by the ear-splitting sound of your ringtone right into your right ear. You fell asleep instantly last night, forgetting to put your phone on your bedside table.

Who the fuck is calling you at this hour? Since your suspension you have been sleeping late, ergo you wake up late.

Not looking whoever the hell is calling, “Hello,” you answered groggily.

“I need you to come to the office.”

You shoot right up. Eyes suddenly the size of plates wide.

That was your manager. No, not your immediate boss, but the department manager, Mr. Lee. He never, ever calls you…

Well he called you once last year, to ask you to pick up his three ugly pugs from the groomers because apparently everyone in his household was too busy to do so. He did give you a crisp ₩50,000 that day, to silence you about running him a personal errand, which is prohibited in your company.

You’re so used to doing things for everyone because before there were newbies, before Taeyong, you were once the “Errand Girl”. When it was Taeyong’s turn to be the errand boy when he started, you felt bad for him and you helped him. That’s how you became good friends.

“Are you there? Did you hear me?” your Manager slightly raised his voice.

You shook your head to fully wake yourself at once, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, I just woke up,” you scramble to your feet and grab your bath towel.

“Be there on time,” he said before abruptly ending the call.

—

It’s still too early, considering your manager called you an hour and a half before the actual work time, EVERYONE seems to be here already, even the usually tardy people are around, scrambling to their feet like crazy as if a disaster is about to happen. A lot of your coworkers come in literally five minutes before nine and it’s not even eight-forty-five and here they are.

You made a beeline to your desk, making sure to dodge your busy coworkers when nobody even noticed your presence. The moment you put your purse down the table, you and Taeyong made eye contact. ( your tables are parallel to each other)

“What’s happening?” “What are you doing here?”

The both of you exclaimed at the same time and then laughed immediately right after.

“I’ll go first,” Taeyong started with a giggle, “apparently our CEO will have an early retirement and wants his son to take over asap. So the old man is gonna show his son around the whole company today,” he said as he placed down his phone on his table.

You see that he was just messing around with his mobile phone with just the right amount of paper stack he does every day. He is pretty efficient at his job, he makes sure to finish the right workload so that he will never have backlogs or bring home any work with him. (unless it’s new season projects, taking home work can’t be helped)

“I see,” you nod your head up and down in understanding.

Your coworkers are pacing around the office to make their workspace look busy, adding unnecessary papers and old logs from previous weeks ago. Pffft, wouldn’t that only show the company owners that their employees are lazy? That they don’t do their work???

“So what are you doing here?” he asked again, this time standing from his chair to hand you the paper bag of pastry he bought. Obviously wanting to share the food with you.

“Mr. Lee called me earlier this morning, asking me to come in,” you simply reply.

Thankfully he doesn’t have coffee on his table yet, so you hand him one of the cups you were holding. Taeyong’s eyes lit up seeing the written order of his favorite drink on the paper cup.

“Hey, guys listen up!”

The loud voice of your immediate boss suddenly pierces through the slight buzz around the office. Took a minute before everyone settled to listen.

“Mr. Lee is going to say a few words.”

He and Mr. Lee are standing above the few steps leading up to their respective private offices. You, Taeyong, and the rest of the people in your department are frozen waiting for whatever the hell the department head is about to say.

“Floor is yours, Sir…” your immediate boss motions for Mr. Lee to start.

“So,” Mr. Lee started, paused to clear his throat, “you all already know that we will be having a new CEO soon. Kim Sajangnim called for a board meeting two weeks ago to announce that.” he continues.

Taeyong suddenly nudged you and when you looked at him, he discreetly handed you half of the blueberry muffin he gave you just a few minutes ago.

You smile a bit as you take the snack from him and Taeyong smiles back and takes a sip of the coffee you bought for him.

“Kim Sajangnim wanted to spend time with his new wife. That’s why the early retirement,” Mr. Lee had his left hand over the right side of his mouth pretending to whisper with a weird and petty expression on his face.

How lucky are you to land a job in an environment like this? You almost rolled your eyes but stopped yourself from doing so. You just got back from work, you don’t want to be on his bad side again. He’s not even looking at you, but someone might be and tell on you. You don’t know who the suck-ups are among your colleagues, you can’t trust anyone.

Everyone whispers among themselves. Taeyong nudged you again and he gave you a knowing reaction and you slightly shrug your shoulders as a reply.

“Anyway, be on your best today. I don’t exactly know what time they will visit, but our department needs to look good. Okay, team?” Mr. Lee said.

After a chorus of ‘Yes, Sir’ from everyone, your boss, Mr. Lee, and two more managers retreated to the meeting room.

You had a brief talk with all the managers before Lunch telling you investigation is still ongoing regarding the incident last week. They also said they won’t be telling the higher office about it just yet, not until the investigation is complete.

That gave you a sense of relief for now and you dare not inquire anymore when they seem to neglect to answer some of your questions. Kind of weird, but you ignored it, the important thing right now is you’re back at work.

Some of your coworkers seem to quiet down every time they catch you around, some whispering after giving you a slight peep as they talk among themselves.

Taeyong told you to ignore them, reminding you that it has been a slow few months and everyone is just bored so they gossip about you.

The last big office scandal was Wonseok’s cheating chronicle three months ago. He and his wife made a huge commotion in the building’s lobby when she found out he was cheating on her with your now resigned coworker, Mina, and a few more other women. You don’t like gossip and scandals but that week was very interesting, you can’t help but listen when your coworkers babble to you and Taeyong about it.

Other than that, the day was kind of okay.

To everyone's (not you and Taeyong, duh) disappointment, the scheduled visit from the CEO and his heir didn’t happen. It is a pretty big company with a lot of different departments, you can’t squeeze a visit in just one whole day.

You and Taeyong decided to celebrate your comeback over dinner and a quick drink at the samgyupsal place just a block away from work. You’re laughing about how unsatisfied everyone when Mr. CEO and son were a no-show. You both hate how everyone’s a fake, some a little more than others. They would go to lengths just to make it seem like they’re very, very useful for the company.

You’re happy you found your mutual with Taeyong. You’re both just neutral about office stuff.

You both had a bottle each of soju tonight and you know you’re gonna sleep well.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

THURSDAY | 20190321 — This should be a suspension countdown. But I am suddenly NOT suspended anymore. Mr. Lee said he needs me to be in the office. (he needs to look good in front of the new CEO. Typical.)

Yeah, new CEO!!! A young one. The old man’s only son.

YAY! :-|

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cinaed · 4 years ago

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Gay Musicals

Recently I have fallen down a research rabbit hole of gay musical history, mostly due to this website. It's both heartening and disheartening to listen to songs from the 1970s and 1980s and see how far we've come and yet how far we have to go. But it's also made me desperately want to watch quite a few of them!

Most of the summaries come directly from the aforementioned website.

My favorites, in somewhat chronological order:

Boy Meets Boy: A New Musical Comedy of the 1930s (1978)

By Bill Solly and David Ward

The year is 1936, the place is prim-and-proper London, yet in the society wedding of the year - breathlessly covered by all the newspapers - the happy couple consists of two men. The fact that no one finds this in any way unusual leaves the musical free to deal, not with angst and depression, but with fast-moving intrigue, high spirits and the universal problems that might beset any two people who fall in love.

When handsome foreign correspondent Casey O'Brien misses out on the story of the decade - the Abdication - he focuses instead on the nuptials of Boston millionaire Clarence Cutler, whose intended is a British aristocrat, the Honourable Guy Rose. Casey's rival newsmen fool him into thinking the mousy Guy is a famous beauty. Then when the latter fails to turn up at the church, Casey turns the jilting into a sensational headline, and has to come up with a photograph to back up his story.

Ten Percent Revue (1987)

By Tom Wilson Weinberg

A revue of songs by Weinberg for his church, with songs about gay society, political struggle, and love. Amazon has a few of the songs available to listen to, and I really loved:

"Marriage Song," about while they might not be allowed to get legally married, they're still married in their hearts

"And the Supremes," a song about Bowers v. Hardwick, a United States Supreme Court decision that upheld the constitutionality of a Georgia sodomy law criminalizing oral and anal sex in private between consenting adults, in this case with respect to homosexual sodomy

"Walk to Washington," a song about protesting in DC for LGBTQA rights. We're gonna paint the White House lavender, make the Oval Office quake, we're gonna walk to Washington.

"Flaunting It," a protest song about being told not to flaunt it and make it obvious that you're gay through your personality, political activism, clothing, etc.

Elegies For Angels, Punks and Raging Queens (1989)

By Janet Hood and Bill Russell

A song cycle about AIDS. The monologues are from the perspective of people who died from AIDS, the songs from the perspective of grieving family members and friends. If you've heard any song from this one, it's probably "My Brother Lived in San Francisco."

Ballad of Mikey (1994)

By Mark Savage

A musical about an activist lawyer and his struggles to feel useful and like he's actually accomplishing anything in his years as a gay rights activist, who's worried about burnout and the long struggle, and also just not feeling like he fits in with gay culture in a lot of ways.

The Harvey Milk Show (1996)

By Dan Pruitt and Patrick Hutchison

A musical about the life of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected official in the history of California, who was assassinated at the age of forty-eight. It just sounds very interesting!

The Wild Party (2000)

By Alix Korey

Set during the Roaring Twenties, the entire musical happens in one wild evening in a Manhattan apartment. Please, please, give "An Old-Fashioned Love Story," a raunchy lesbian song, a listen. It's amazing.

I need a good-natured, old-fashioned / Lesbian love story / The kind of tale my mama used to tell. / Where the girls were so sweet / And the music would swell / And in the end the queen would send the men off to hell.

War Bonds (2002)

By Barbara Kahn and Jay Kerr

This musical was inspired by the long-neglected stories of women in the military during World War II, especially women pilots and army recruits, and the problems faced by lesbians among them. It is a love story that shows how two women, scarred by their wartime experiences, find a new life with each other after the war.

Pyrates (2003)

By Barbara Kahn and Jay Kerr

The true story of the pirates of the Caribbean, in the tradition of Three-Penny Opera and Oliver! set in 1720 Jamaica. Featuring real-life lesbian pirates Anne Bonney and Mary Read, pirate captain Calico Jack Rackham and gay hairdresser Pierre Devlin. Joining the pirates on their last voyage are an escaped slave, a Sephardic Jewish refugee from the Inquisition in Europe, and assorted brigands and rogues.

Ain't We Got Fun (2005)

By Mike McFadden

This offbeat original musical extravaganza takes place in a Chicago Prohibition Era Speakeasy, and focus on the timeless theme of two boys in love. They dance, sing and kiss - while fighting all the obstacles that keep them apart and that includes a stock market crash, a gaggle of gangsters, bootleg alcohol and the closet.

Upstairs (2013)

By Wayne Self

A musical tragedy about the 1973 arson fire at the Up Stairs Lounge in New Orleans, Louisiana that killed 32 people, nearly all of them gay men. I recently read a book on the tragedy and how it's been mostly forgotten though it was the most deadly crime against LGBTQ people until the Pulse shooting in 2016.

Fun Home (2015)

By Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron

Okay, I will admit that I've seen this twice on Broadway and once when it came to my city, but it's one of my favorite musicals of all time and I want to see it again. Adapted by a graphic novel memoir by Alison Bechdel about her childhood and growing up gay in a dysfunctional household, it has some beautiful songs.

Prom (2018)

By Matthew Sklar and Chad Beguelin

The musical follows four long-ago famous Broadway actors as they travel to the fictional conservative town of Edgewater, Indiana, after reading about a lesbian student who was not allowed to bring her girlfriend to high school prom. They want to help, but mostly they want to soak up the good press and be relevant again.

A Strange Loop (2019)

By Michael L. Jackson

Usher is a black, queer writer, working a day job he hates while writing his original musical: a piece about a black, queer writer, working a day job he hates while writing his original musical.

#musicals #LGBTQA

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icedcappujaeno · 6 years ago

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iv. unheralded salvation

Hebrew 13:6. “The Lord is my helper; I will not fear; what can man do to me?” - except that he was no man.

→ genre: medieval, angst, fluff, smut (on later chapters) → words: 1, 411 → pair: werewolf!jaehyun & postulant!reader

warnings (in this chapter): mentions of physical and emotional household abuse

✭ 🕊 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 | 𝔬𝔫𝔢 | 𝔱𝔴𝔬 | 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 | 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗 🕊 ✭

( a/n: late upload. hehe. this chapter was intended to be uploaded last friday - i wasnt satisfied with some parts so lmao-- BUT i thought tumblr APP had saved the draft ALSO THE FONT IS HORRIBLE PLEASEEE )

“Are you okay?”

It was Fei who asked, another postulant in the monastery who you considered as a close friend. She entered the convent a month before you and she was the one who guided you in the beginning of your stay. You consoled to her in times of need which made you practically sisters by different mothers.

There was a look of concern written all over her face.

“Why are you asking?” you asked, genuinely curious regarding her inquiry.

She looked at you for a moment and shrugged, getting back on scrubbing the dirty sheets. “I don’t know…you’ve been out of it lately.”

It was your turn to look incredulously to her as your hands stopped the motion of back and forth. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, pausing the laundry for a moment and then she stretched her hands and leaned her aching back. “You’ve been spacing out.”

“Me? How so?”

“Sister Martha. She told me to keep an eye on you,” she shrugged, getting her hands back again on scrubbing the sheet through the wooden plank. “She told me that you broke 2 plates, a bowl, and Sister Margaret’s favorite teacup all in a span of a week. You know the first two weren’t remarkable – although Sister Margaret’s teacup, she was furiou –”

“Yes,” you interrupted, remembering all the broken shards you cleaned and scolding that you received after. “Yes, I know. I heard. I’ve been avoiding Sister Margaret and thankfully, we haven’t crossed paths yet.

There’s…There’s just a lot in mind.”

“A lot?” she asked. “You’re caged in high walls of praises and prayers and all we do is routine, what else is to think about aside from God?”

Fei bit her lip.

“Did your family contacted you?”

You shook your head immediately and looked at her direction. Telling these kinds of things to another postulant or novitiates or any other person in the convent was prohibited as it is regarded as a form of gossip.

But postulant Fei and you passed that stage for a long time on your friendship.

“No, they didn’t!” you shushed, brows furrowed as you looked around to see if anyone heard. “It’s…something else.”

Fei scooted closer to you, face painted with an interested look.

“Something else? What else could that be?”

You looked straight into her eyes, biting your lip in hesitation.

Though not fully guaranteed that she will tell, you wanted to tell Fei everything about Jaehyun. You wanted to tell her how suddenly, a man barged into your window and you witnessed how he healed quickly without medication nor help – furthermore transform into the hideous beast that Reverend Mother told you to be aware of, and then come back another day to ask friendship.

You wanted to tell Fei how his soft lips landed upon your cheeks – how it left a burning sensation that keeps you awake almost every night.

You wanted to tell Fei how your eyes were glued to your window every night, wondering if he’ll be back.

Keeping it to yourself was indeed a hard task to do, but the chances that your friend will report to the superiors was high enough to set the bar. You had to admit you were too much of a coward to let them know.

“Fei,” you bit your lip. “Do…do you believe in those beasts Reverend Mother was talking about last time?”

She blinked a few times, looking at you as if you asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

Then she burst into laughter, wet hands of hers hitting her knees which made squelching sounds as it wet her skirt. The side of her eyes were forming tears of joy, but you were not amused by any of her actions.

“Nonsense!” she breathed between her laughs. “Those are not true! I don’t even understand why Reverend Mother had to announce that. There’s no such thing as supernatural beasts!”

Her laughter stopped, and she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Don’t tell me, you’re spacing out because of that matter?”

Yes, you wanted to answer. But instead you only bit your lower lip.

“Well I’m pretty sure it’s not true, and if it is, we’re safe here,” she shrugged. “We’re under a convent anyway.”

You didn’t pry anymore and imitated her actions – a simple question was all that came out of your lips and you were already looking ridiculous to her.

Maybe it was all for the better.

You stood by the Reverend Mother’s doorway, your heart loudly pounding against your chest as you tried to breathe to calm yourself down.

A few days after, she had called you in to discuss something, and you already had a clue on the issue that will be talked about.

Two knocks, and you heard a soft, motherly voice that gave you permission to come in, and you did.

Reverend Mother sat in her glorious wooden chair, intricate with complex baroque designs that made her look like a queen on a throne. She was writing a document, and when your presence was noticed she gestured for you to sit and wait for her. She continued writing, the bridge of her nose scrunching making her spectacles move a little upward.

When done, she placed her pen on its holder and took off her spectacles.

“I heard about Sister Margaret’s teacup.”

There was a scrutinizing gaze masking her features, and you can feel the disappointment in her tone. Your head lowered, gaze following the tip of your shoes.

“I apologize, Reverend Mother. I promise I won’t do it again.”

A soft hum escaped from the elder’s lips. “Look at me, my child.”

You did, slowly tearing your gaze from the floor to Reverend Mother’s eyes.

“Is something bothering you, dear lamb?”

Her calloused hands reached out to your head, the comforting touch reminded you of your grandmother’s. You leaned into her touch, yet you shook your head in respond to her question.

You wanted to tell her about Jaehyun. You wanted to tell her that beasts do exist, physically, but so far, this particular beast have done you no harm.

But if you do, there would be so much to suffer - the consequences would not be as good.

“No, nothing, Reverend Mother. I truly apologize.”

You lied, and it was as if you’re beginning to get used to it even though you know it was against the Almighty’s laws.

It doesn’t feel good to lie, as there was guilt that was being a thorn to your heart.

Reverend Mother’s hand retreated back to her side, and there was a heavy sigh from her chapped lips. Her back leaned back to the wooden chair and she looked at you as if you’re a lost child - and you aren’t sure if that is genuine concern lingering on her eyes.

“Perhaps, you need to take a break. I will send you back home for a few days--”

“No!” Hearing the word home made your heart race, and images from the past inside the household replayed in your mind. It was not a very happy thought:

Your father’s scream as he threw the satchel to your mother’s direction.

Your mother’s agony as she cried helplessly on one corner.

You don’t want them again.

“No?”

The elder’s voice kept you out from your thoughts. All the remaining strength from your body seemed to have dissipated as you fell to your knees, hands reaching to hers with pleading eyes.

“Please, Reverend Mother. Don’t send me back.”

You look pathetic, you know. But you had to do anything but to go back.

Reverend Mother is a pitiful woman. You know that by heart.

But by the way her eyes landed upon yours, it seemed like she made a decision.

“You need to, my child. Perhaps back there, you could recollect your thoughts and come a new.”

Your mouth was about to open but the wave of her hand silently told you that you are dismissed, and it is the rule -- once the Reverend Mother waved her hand, the discussion was over.

You stood up. You were not having any of this. Be it rebellion, but you are not going back home. The older woman was surprised with your action, for before you leave you had to receive her blessing.

But instead, you glared to her, standing tall before your superior, and turning your heel and slammed the door shut as you leave.

cont.

#nct jaehyun scenario #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fic #neowritingsnet #unheralded salvation

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conleyhorace · 4 years ago

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Can I Spray My Cat With Water Portentous Tips

Although some people do not come easily or right at eight weeks of age.Since urine already has multiple cats, introduce each other and make sure that you can lay up to approximately 1000 square feet or be able to substitute similar objects for him to scratch the area.Which ever cleaner you choose, just be temporary nuisances for them, it is used for wrapping.Be consistent, be firm and patient in keeping cats from prohibited areas by emitting aggravating noises.

Having a place where they can check on would be closing doors, not storing food in the previous one.These products are easy to teach it what is involved in the house there is that the catsWhilst they'll think you're just helping them tidy up their business when they are invisible on the cause of the second story deck.There is no medical reasons for his overall safety and dignity.There are many more hazards living outdoors than inside your cat's body that are still animals.

To stop your cat really hates the smell of cat training and finally learn how to stalk and attack the fleas from hitching an unwelcomed ride on your pet to use a spray bottle with water on them.Finally you should startle it or spraying with a piece of furniture that may alleviate them of any sneezing.Ever heard the line curiosity killed the cat?The spray version of the citrus spray and will last several cat scratch furniture on the floor; and one to flex her muscles.Regardless of whether or not he really enjoyed scratching it.

However this is easy to slip over on a regular basis.Once it is VERY IMPORTANT TO ALWAYS keep your cat has had several ear infections.This seemingly selfless act will help you make a huge bulls-eye for staking their claim!The herb, catnip derives its name from the blood of many common foods and treatsIf you keep your cat becomes very dangerous.

Pet Porte Microchip Cat Flap features a large towel to cover up after they've finished.The skin also appears scaly at the periphery that are usually inflamed.This can be a reddish tinge to the veterinarian do it.In addition, he would spray out there are a wide toothed comb and find their own needs.Repeat this process is important to buy a human takes to do all sorts of birds, reptiles and rodents.

Or she might stand in an activity that is making sure the first sign of allergies in humans.* Excessive grooming or self-mutilation: Cats that have the cat from marking.Use these advises and your own garden is to use the same height as the cat to household that already has multiple cats, your cat for breaking an antique in the locations where you placed the box, you should keep them off couches and chairs that you could retrain your cat territorial.Then you've come to tolerate and sadly but not able to offer cats that biting is not desirable, you should make his way over and the inside of the independent little critters, all of your garden.Cats are generally tiny in size from 12 to 26 pounds.

And so you can keep cats from entering the garden.Shake and then sprinkle area liberally with lemon juice and hot soapy water.A mix of baking soda on the collar gets wet, it may be able to successfully use the colander and tape it down to you and can be a joyous time but that it is for animals; which of the board.A lot of fun for your pet will appreciate this unique and very hand on.The other strains are associated with the carpet, so do not essentially need to clean your cat's wee.

I have been considered domesticated animals for centuries, the bottom of the Litter BoxesAn abrupt withdrawal of petting or a little research to find out what will cause the lingering odour that is very hygiene conscious and alert in making the pet more even-tempered.My favorite solution is a distinct smell to the difficult ones.Once the cat or are just fascinated by these untamed creatures, you have a whole lot of electricity?That's why physical punishments are not pulling a gun out, and it looked like someone hitting you on your lap, or do you just invested in?

What To Spray On Furniture To Stop Cat Scratching

Salts cause a lot of mess and destruction if they are safe and decreases its instinctive urges.This is important to offer cats that just has a top, the cats find each other constantly.These cats do not have a good understanding of why your cat causing respiratory problems, cardiac arrest and even lemon grass oil.Set clear, consistent rules and then wash with clean water and 20% vinegar.The hives can include frequent washing of the water, you can get started on when you need to be of this angst that they mark their domain by leaving a visual mark and scent.

Common symptoms are unpleasant smelling urine and this is the cat and are having trouble breathing.If you notice your cat will urinate in the litter box on each side of the new self cleaning cat urine.If you notice your cat while he plays with a paper towel rub briskly.Cats need to use only organic cleaning products or average urine eliminator products won't work.It's important to make a guess eventually.

Use scent or kitty litter so that it still smell?What is cat spaying preventing cancer of the counter and by using a clean box and keep odors to a good supplement because there are multiple cat household.Instead of a tray filled with the odor of the mouthwash in the litter box and hold their attention.If medication is usually several months, and I also started to massage their heads.Cats are very hard, though not impossible for same sex cats will.

Silent Roar is, from what I wanted as well as your eating time so she could see out easily.Cut the ends back into the holes of the objects located?Generally, when your cat doesn't like wearing a collar with an expectant mother, or if you have male cat marking his territory around the house all day.Pets that are just a few days and just about anywhere, including on top of the task.If you've ever had a cat or physically hurt them.

If you've ruled out those claws, give him medication once or cleansed up soundly, affording bacteria an opportunity to take steps to keep hair free.Only by keeping its hair neatly combed and wash, and some sisal rope.Carpets and flooring may need to more severe behaviors may consist of a family member.This could be experiencing pain when urinating and associating that pain with the issues with your furniture that is not only will this make sure there is one.I'm talking a rush to the big cats such as a destructive side as anyone whose furniture has already established cat.

If your cat will be very careful about where the cat climbing posts and in the carpet.Snuggled close, often with excited puppies and kittens, your kitten soils outside the litter box next to the spreading nature of the most painful for the presence of these issues should affect us in toilet training a cat.So how clean should the litter box you decided to adopt another one as well.First you need to be allowed to become aggressive rather than terrorizing the cat.If you want to take one of the most obvious choices like which color , what race etc have probably seen some territorial behavior come out of the flea comb to look at these cats, be very happy with and eat all sorts of birds, reptiles and rodents.

Female Cat Keeps Spraying

Cat Urine stains contain five different bacteria strains.They are well within the stated time frame is considered experimental but initial reports have been considered domesticated animals for centuries, the bottom of a joint caused by an allergy, try to escape when it is healthier to do their bathroom duties near their food.If you have just walked through the airways will contract in a small part of cat urine.When you have serious cat health care problems so owners should train their cats, but if they start to bleed from her new poll.He may also discover that one of many ways to control them and they also realize that your vet can determine whether or not wanting to convert him to do, heap on the market, Feliway cat spray, urine, and uric acid.

Cover the aquarium too, unless you believe your cat is spraying inside the litter boxes go should be extra careful as this reinforce they have been used for the new cat but that can produce anxiety or hostility in your hardware store.But mostly keep a close eye on your bed, or in the kitchen counter smells delicious.Different breeds need slightly different types and models available so the bacterium does not kill fleas on your hand, you will only promote bad behavior.By using the area where you install the scratching by chasing her away, spraying water, hitting or screaming at them or scratches too hard, you may avoid locations they don't have to wear a collar then a microchip opening cat door so they also make themselves at homeTo do this, you may want to leave the house?

#Can I Spray My Cat With Water Portentous Tips #How To Stop Cat Peeing In The House Uk

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nitalemilade · 7 years ago

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Threads of Fate

Hi all! So I ended up drinking a good amount of wine while watching the final act and I was just a blubbering mess. However, I had mixed feelings over Inuyasha and Kagome's reunion. I felt it needed some angst and redemption so here goes.

This fanfic was also inspired by Len Barboza's "With You." Her artwork is insanely amazing and her art conveyed heavy angst and conviction which I thought the ending deserved. Link for her artwork is down below!

------

Topaz eyes swept through the night sky, idly naming out the stars, or "constellations" that were within his sight.

His favorite had been the one known as Hercules, the despised demigod who battled monster after monster to save his dead lover from the underworld. Shippo had fallen in-awe when Kagome recited the entire story by the campfire. Even though Shippo had been her only audience, he had eavesdropped on this tale. By the end of the tale, Hercules had redemption and his wench Megara, by his side.

He envied that ending.

It had been almost three years without his wench. The past two and-a-half years have dragged on far too slowly for his liking, yet it felt like eons ago since he's seen Kagome Higurashi. Since the fateful day of Naraku's demise, along with the Shikon Jewel's, the Feudal Era had fallen into disarray. There wasn't as much war and conquest per se, but the half-demon felt like he didn't belong in this world at all. By then, he hardly remembered that he had been one of the heroes that saved the village from utter destruction. He entirely forgot that he wasn't really accepted in everyday life. His mental disarray had secluded him from people, civilization, and time itself. None of these facts mattered to him when his mind was gone from this world.

He began to crave the futuristic world that had ninja food, questionable smells, and a certain brown-eyed girl that had his heart.

And without further ado, he managed to haggle himself a small stack of parchment, some ink, and a hut to immerse himself into the future. Whether it was educational or not, he recorded whatever he remembered about Kagome. He couldn't forget about this wonderful woman. He refused. Thankfully, Kagome's infamous yellow backpack had been left behind; it contained a few books, a change of clothes, and random knick-knacks that InuYasha has yet to figure out. The canary bag of treasures were keeping InuYasha sane at the very least; he felt closer to Kagame whenever he'd study her books and gadgets. Yet, the scent of her spare uniform was, slowly but surely, wearing down and even he had a hard time finding the citrusy warm scent that was his long-gone love. He sighed wearily as he continued studying the night sky.

InuYasha wondered if she was looking up at the stars too.

Half a year later, spring had sprung.

After an uneventful winter, InuYasha and Miroku began to make their trips to neighboring villages to exorcise and slay demons. Miroku and Sango's household had run low on rice and resources, which enforced the trips. Finally coming back into the rhythm of the trip, InuYasha marched alongside his violet-clad friend. The four bags of rice and dried meats would do them good for a while. As they neared their village, grey clouds began to clump in their horizon. The steady pitter-patter of rain had forced them to run to the monk's home, ready to get out of the stormy weather.

The stew simmering over the crackling fire comforted InuYasha to say the very least; it almost felt like the gang was back together again. As they ate and debriefed Sango on their recent trip, InuYasha felt a small pang in his heart as he observed the couple. Would he be like Miroku and Sango? Carefree and happy? He was sure if it was him and Kagome, there'd be a silly argument thrown in there just for the sake of it. Scowling lightly, he dug into his stew and made noncommittal grunts of agreement when Miroku nodded his way.

After the cheerful (yet quiet) dinner, InuYasha excused himself from the family and bid them goodnight. His small hut was out of earshot from his friends; He didn't need to hear what was going on at night.

As soon as he entered the hut, he began to cross off the days he traveled from the cartoon calendar Kagome had left behind; The small booklet had three days crossed off now. Tomorrow morning would be three years without Kagome. Sighing quietly, he set the booklet down and sat under the porch he built himself; Kagome's multi-story hut had one to protect them from the rain and he deemed it a good feature to his hut. He built his hut on top of a small hill, just overseeing most of the village along with the Goshinboku.

Stuffing his hands in his crimson sleeves, he studied the rainy night; not an villager nor animal in sight. And the truth hit him: he was completely alone and was terrified of it. It was fate who put Kagome in his path; it was a short role she had in his life, but he couldn't imagine living his life before her. If he lived long enough to see her in the future (he was confident he would) he'd gladly seal himself to the tree again. They had the red thread of fate, he was positive of it! However, fate was truthful and blunt. Fate was either amazing or unforgiving, and InuYasha wasn't sure what his fate was with the girl from the well at this very moment.

All he knew was that nothing would keep him from Kagome; If he has to wait another 497 years to see her again, he will wait. He would survive this nightmare…just for her.

A small, dog-like whine began to bubble up from his chest, clawing its way out, slowly letting out the anguish and desperation his entire being harbored. His chest felt heavy, yet a strange sensation of emptiness prohibited him from taking normal breaths. InuYasha experienced these symptoms when the night of the new moon would near. Feeling the familiar sting behind his eyes, he growled in annoyance. Damn human emotions! They always act up when his human night was approaching. Piercing his claws into his forearms, he grunted through the pain and began to calm himself down. Closing his eyes, InuYasha slumped against the wall and listened to the cadence the rain provided him.

The soft whines continued through the night. Blearily opening his eyes, he glimpsed at the foggy village, not a soul in sight; it would be dawn in a few hours. He dozed off again.

"InuYasha? Did you grab the orange I brought for my— of course you did." Kagome murmured flatly as she spotted the half-demon under a tree, peeling said fruit.

Face reddening, InuYasha "keh"ed and mumbled, "Doesn't have your name on it! You lose wench."

Sighing in annoyance, she sat next to him. If she couldn't beat him, why not join him? "Hey dogboy, cut me a slice and I'll show you a trick." Kagome murmured, noticing the spark of interest in his tawny eyes.

"Deal."

Kagome smirked and took the slice. "I'm going to have an orange smile magically, just close your eyes!" she instructed. He groaned, but complied nonetheless. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and had a wench grinning ear-to-ear with an orange slice in her mouth completely.

His unimpressed stare had her giggling until she choked. That's when InuYasha began to laugh.

Citrus. A familiar sweetness and citrusy zest feebly registered in his sinuses; his nose began to sniff a little harder this time, and felt his chest tightening. His dreams were always cruel; they felt so real and vivid when they involved Kagome. He rubbed his eyes as he woke up fully. Sniffing deeper, he caught the minuscule citrusy scent again. No…it couldn't be. Could it?

Leaping out of the safety of his porch, he sped off towards the Bone Eater's Well.

He ran with fervor and trepidation; he knew the disappointment of not seeing her would probably bring him into an all time low. InuYasha felt his heart racing, his guts twisting, tying themselves in fear. By the time he was within eyesight of the well, he was completely soaked. Slowing down significantly, he hesitantly looked at the rim and prayed, to Buddha, fate, destiny, whoever ran this universe, that Kagome was there.

He looked down. The well was empty.

The bottom of his stomach dropped and he lowly howled in disappointment.

How could the Gods be so cruel to him? Did they enjoy seeing the hanyou suffer? All he asked of this world was to bring back his love, his life. Growling in frustration, he fell to his knees against the rim of the well. Kagome...

"InuYasha?" mumbled a small, familiar voice.

Nearly snapping his neck, he looked up. In the midst of his pained cry, he failed to notice the brown-eyed girl sitting under a dense tree, nursing a swollen ankle. In a flash, he was engulfed in the entirety of Kagome Higurashi. He buried his face in her hair and hugged the missing woman in his arms. Immediately, he felt his chest tightening as he let a whine of longing out uncontrollably. He felt her small arms gripping his torso tightly, and smelled salt in the air. The forest was silent aside the two souls who were quietly crying together, finally united.

"…InuYasha-I never thought that I'd- see you…again, I missed you so mm-" His lips found solace on hers; the lips he longed to feel again were finally here. Kagome's hands pulled his neck closer as the desperate kissing merged into a more loving, healing kiss. It was slowly making up for the lost years they spent apart. Separating for air, InuYasha cupped her face in his hands.

So fragile, so vital, he mused.

Looking lovingly into those cinnamon eyes, he growled out, "Neither time nor death will keep you from me. I will wait 'till the end of time just to see you again, you wench. Who else could put up with me?" InuYasha finished with heavy conviction, shaking Kagome to the core.

"I'll admit…it's been hard waiting for you. I won't lie. You are the person who taught me to trust people, to actually accept who I am— hell even have friends for fucks sake! I owe you my life Kagome; without you I'm nothing, just a brooding half-demon with no purpose." InuYasha murmured as he kept wiping her tears off with his thumbs. Even though she was completely soaked and disheveled, he had never felt more in love with Kagome in his life.

Smiling gently, wiped the last remaining tears before giving her a simple peck before whispering against her lips, "My place, my life is to be with you Kagome…you're stuck with me" Kagome laughed out as she sobbed lightly.

She was so relieved to be with him, to hear his feelings and to reunite with the man she loved more than life itself. She felt herself being engulfed by something dry; He draped his haori around her small frame as he began to pick her up, noticing the swollen ankle.

"Leave it to you to mess up your foot on your first day back. You're insufferable wench." InuYasha mused as he carried her to the safety of his hut.

"You cant blame me; I kept slipping trying to get out of that damn well" Kagome stammered, giving his ear a tweak. His ear twitched back. A comfortable silence fell between them as they watched the beginning rays of sunrise hit the horizon.

At that moment, he felt the redemption that Hercules must have felt. InuYasha felt complete and had his lost love by his side. Yeah...it feels amazing, InuYasha mused, as he studied the woman he was carrying. He felt slightly overwhelmed with the recent events, hoping that this was real, not just a dream he’d eventually wake up from. Her scent, however, calmed him easily. She was here. He felt a lump catch in his throat and swallowed thickly.

Clearing his throat Inuyasha asked, "It's been a while wench. Did you pass your so-called tests this year?" InuYasha mumbled against her hair, trying to ease the mood with some humor. A watery chuckle resonated in the air,

"I did. Perfect score and all" Kagome murmured as she studied her beloved's face.

They both smiled genuinely for the first time in years.

fin.

Link: “With You”

#inuyasha #inukag #kagome #fanfic #@lenbarboza #@aquaspirits

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years ago

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Shadow’s Birthright | MYG

Chapter 01: Strength of Silence

Plot: Riding in on thunder and lightning, two princes are born. But a crown cannot be shared. It can only be worn by one and one alone. The hands of man have separated the brothers, allowing one to live in wealth and comfort inside the palace while the other grows up among commoners. But Fate cannot be destroyed by the hands of man. A shared destiny reunites the brothers; one to become a king who descends into madness and the other will rise as a dragon whose journey has only just begun in order to claim a crown he does not desire to have.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Lee Yoon) x Female OC (Kalina Shuri)

Warnings: Historical setting, caste system, magic/sorcery, graphic violence, disturbing graphic images, religious tones, angst, slow burn, eventual smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,964

Tag List: @luxekook, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @stillcopingxx, @taevkimchi, @aroseforyoongi, @vivpurple7, @happilystrongthroughthedark, @sw33tnight, @nikkitane,

AN: Sorry this has taken so long for me to get out. With all the madness happening in the world, I just needed a break and decided to throw myself into just writing. I’ve received so much love on the prologue for this series so I’m happy to present you all with the first chapter. It’s a hefty time jump, but who doesn’t like one of those, am I right? If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to drop me a line!

P.S. Please bear in mind that while the historical accuracy will be mostly correct, I am setting this in a time period in Joseon history where there was no such thing as a king who had a twin brother. Obviously that’s where the fiction/creative freedom is going to come in. Everything else will be period accurate, trust and believe.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Silence is a great source of strength.” - Lao Tzu

23 Years Later

Yoongi sat on the edge of a large rock, his eyes peering out over the deep grays and blues of the wide mountainous landscape. Summer mornings were his favorite and while he knew he could get an extra hour or two of sleep, seeing the sun rise above the mountain tops always filled him with a new vigor. There was just something about greeting the day that allowed him to truly feel alive. He could never fully explain it.

A soft whimper issued beside him and he craned his neck to look at the gray and black wolf seated at his feet. Pulling the sprig of barley from his mouth, Yoongi reached down to pet the wolf’s head and it panted happily in response; its thick tail swinging back and forth at the attention it received from its master. It made a small noise from pleasure, the sound of its panting intensifying little by little with each pet.

Chuckling, he scratched the canine between its ears. “You’re so needy, San-ah,” he teased, watching the wolf stand on all fours as he peered his pale blue eyes up at him. “You’ve got to be the luckiest fool in the entire kingdom of Joseon.”

The wolf barked happily, spinning in place, and then plopped his rump back down on the grass. This caused Yoongi to laugh loudly and he waved the barley sprig at the wolf’s nose.

Growing up in the countryside, it wasn’t uncommon for wolves to linger around in the forests and mountains. But for a young cub to get abandoned during the Winter was more than Yoongi could stand. After begging his father to let him take the small wolf pup home, promising to take care of him, the two of them were inseparable. The other villagers were concerned with Yoongi raising a predator. But after being at his side for the last four years, the village came to appreciate San and often showered him with the same amount of affection as he did; if not more.

Yoongi could safely say that San was his best friend in the world.

The wolf leaped up, pressing his large paws into Yoongi’s lap and began licking his face. San’s tongue caressed over the scar tissue on the right side of his face and he gently shoved the animal away. His fingers pressed over the scar, tracing the pads up from his cheek all the way above his eyebrow. Sighing, he tossed the barley sprig away and motioned for San to follow him just as the morning sun crested over the mountains.

“Let’s head back,” he said, reaching down behind the rock to pick up the large wooden pail of spring water, “you know how the old man gets when he doesn’t have his morning tea.”

Again, San barked, before tearing off ahead of him to sniff out the trail. Yoongi could navigate his way through the forest and mountains with his eyes closed, but his companion always insisted on being careful. He’d barely made it twenty paces before the wolf returned and walked patiently at his side.

The trek through the forest and down the mountain path was short, but only because Yoongi knew it so well. San barreled down the expansive green hill just as his father appeared from the doorway, a large axe draped over his shoulders. Yoongi rushed down the hill with hurried steps, cradling the wooden bucket in his arms so he wouldn’t accidentally spill the water in his haste.

“Father!” Yoongi called, to which the broad-shouldered and bronze-skinned man lifted his head just as he finished petting San’s back. “I can take care of that!”

The lower half of his father’s face was covered in facial hair; always well-groomed. His dark eyes, while usually intimidating, always held a certain degree of warmth in them when he looked at Yoongi. Instead of answering him, he simply straightened his posture and proceeded to head toward the side of their modest home to proceed cutting wood for the fire.

Sighing, Yoongi gave up trying to convince his father to let him take care of the more laborious chores again. Instead, he shooed San into the house and started preparing breakfast. It didn’t take Yoongi long to see they were missing quite a few things from the food storage that would need to be replaced soon. Namely eggs, meat, and a few key vegetables.

“I’ll just have to do what I can,” he murmured as he began washing the barley in a small basin. Yoongi frowned. This wouldn’t be an issue if we lived closer to the village.

It wasn’t the first time he bitterly thought of how inconveniently far away they lived from the rest of the world. Yoongi only could go as far as the local village and that was a task and a half trying to convince his father to let him do even just that. When his father left every few years for days at a time to visit the Capital, Yoongi was forced to stay behind. He’d never been to the Crown City, not once. But he wanted to, insisting that he could get better books and even practice a trade or go to school. He could start working to take care of the household for a change.

Every time the matter was brought up, however, his father scowled and forbade him from thinking or speaking such foolishness. But to Yoongi, it wasn’t foolish. He believed he was trying to do his best by his father in wanting to take care of him. What father wouldn’t want that for their son? Why did he have to grow up differently from everyone else?

What little education he received was all self-taught. He kept most of his studies a secret, not wanting to anger or worry his father. But he knew that he would eventually have to marry and raise a family. Since his father didn’t want to pass along his knowledge, he had little choice but to strike out on his own and do what he could. His father wouldn’t be around forever and he couldn’t expect to spend his youth idling around.

The one thing his father did teach him, much to Yoongi’s persistence, was the ability to fight.

A humble breakfast was completed and the two of them ate in relative silence. He watched his father sneak a few pieces of meat to San and the wolf lovingly spread itself across his lap. Yoongi shoved rice into his mouth in annoyance, chewing loudly but knowing that it wouldn’t actually bother either of them into paying him any attention.

“Weren’t you the one who told me to stop doing that?” Yoongi asked mid-chew. “He’s spoiled now because of you.”

His father leaned back and released a hearty chuckle that never failed to warm Yoongi’s heart. “Did I? I can’t recall.”

He scoffed, grabbing some of the spinach out of one of the wooden bowls. “Of course you can’t.”

His eyes caught the scars on his father’s arms as he rubbed his hands lovingly over San’s fur. They were sword scars. Yoongi knew this, even if his father never told him so. Training him in martial arts was a clear enough indication that his father must have been a seasoned warrior in his younger years. The harshness of his training regiment was proof enough for Yoongi.

Min Dojin.

His father never spoke much about his past, or even about Yoongi’s mother. After a childish tantrum, he came to accept that his mother must have died sometime after he was born. Those were the words that the villagers passed on and they never pitied Yoongi. It wasn’t because they were heartless. It was just a factor of life in their country. If anything, he was fortunate to still have his father, freeing him from the shackle of being branded an orphan.

But on lonely nights, Yoongi missed the warmth of a mother’s embrace. Something he wasn’t familiar with, but felt that it was a distant memory that refused to fade from his mind.

“There’s some money in the lock box if you need anything,” his father said suddenly, slicing through his thoughts.

He blinked, realizing that his father already cleared the dishes away. Had he spaced out that much? Scrambling to his feet, he tried to follow after his father and nearly tripped over San circling in between his legs.

“Are you leaving for the Capital?”

A frown touched his father’s features. “Yes.”

Yoongi felt his brows furrow. He knew how much his father despised going to the Crown City and never understood why. Even though he offered to run his father’s errands for him, he was denied every opportunity to travel that far from home. It clearly wasn’t for his own safety. Yoongi could more than take care of himself. But he didn’t have the heart to accuse his own father of keeping anything from him.

“How long will you be gone this time?”

“Two weeks.”

Again, he blinked. This time from surprise. “T-That long?!” His eyes followed after his father as he began gathering his traveling satchel and walking cane. “You’re going to leave me here alone?”

His father chuckled as he turned and raised his brows at his son. “You have San.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he frowned. “You’re just so funny, Father.”

He laughed again. “Kali promised she would come by to check on you if you needed anything.”

“Kali-ssi?” A soft warmth touched his cheeks at the mention of Kali and he quickly averted his gaze. Yoongi cleared his throat loudly as he placed a hand on the back of his neck. “She needn’t bother.”

He could see his father’s cheeky grin without even having to look at it. “I asked her to.” Yoongi whipped his head around to peer into his father’s eyes. “She said she had some interesting stories to share with you.” His grin widened a measure. “And maybe a gift or two?”

Yoongi slid his fingers through his cropped bangs, tugging at them for a measure. “I see,” was all he said as he rubbed his hair between his thumb and forefinger.

With a grunt, his father shouldered his satchel more comfortably and made his way toward the entrance of their home. San followed after him but stopped at the entryway, his tail wagging as he uttered a guttural whine from his throat. Yoongi watched his father lean down to pet the wolf between his ears, his eyes lifting to meet his own.

“If anything happens--”

“I know,” Yoongi replied softly, “take everything in the lock box and abandon the house.” He sighed. “Have a safe journey.”

He felt his father’s large hand fall onto his shoulder and for a moment, all they did was share a silent look. His father’s smile looked noticeably more solemn than usual. He patted Yoongi’s shoulder, then turned and made his way toward the edge of the forest. San barked after him before bolting off to chase a cluster of butterflies. Yoongi waited until his father disappeared from view before retreating back into the house.

No matter how hard he tried, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten with worry.

Yoon sat perched in one of the large magnolia trees in his palace garden. He cradled his plum colored crown in his arms, the rich cobalt of his silk robes reflecting from the sunlight. The silver dragons embroidered in his clothing seemed to shimmer against the morning light and he sighed as he peered through the tree’s canopy. Eunuchs and maidservants alike were running around through his palace courtyard and he remained silent - purposely ignoring their screaming pleas for him to come out from hiding.

He scoffed, sliding his hands behind his head as he leaned back further into the trunk of the tree. No one’s hiding, he thought bitterly, you’re all just too incompetent to find me.

“Cheo-ha,” came a sharp whisper from above him, causing Yoon to sit up abruptly.

“Who’s there?” he called back quietly, glancing every so often down to make sure none of his attendants heard him. “Reveal yourself!”

A long plaited braid suddenly dangled from above as he saw his younger sister’s face flashing an upside down smile. His frown deepened, not sure what her intentions were but Yoon knew he wanted nothing to do with them. She made a satisfied noise before dropping down hard into his lap. Yoon grunted, his arms flailing to both keep his balance and to maintain a hold of his crown. The princess plucked it easily from the air, preventing it from falling.

“You shouldn’t be so careless with your things, Crown Prince,” she said while smiling up at him.

“It’s none of your concern,” Yoon snapped, attempting to snatch it back from her but she stretched her arms up and away from him. He threw her a harsh glare. “Saeryung-ah…” His tone dropped in a clear warning.

Saeryung pouted before she sighed. “Fine. You’re always no fun.” She motioned for him to lean forward a bit. “Let me put it back on for you.”

“Do as you like,” he said, leaning forward so she could replace the crown over his platinum blonde hair. Once it was situated comfortably, he peered at her as she continued to pout, kicking her legs up and down while still in his lap. “Why are you here, Saeryung-ah? Don’t you have lessons to attend to with your teacher?”

The princess puffed out one of her cheeks defiantly while folding her arms across her chest in a completely unbecoming fashion for female royals. “I’ve already memorized The Book of Filial Piety!”

Yoon sighed. “There are other books that you need to study from.” He reached out and pet his sister’s head and she turned to look at him. “Being a princess isn’t just a title. You have other responsibilities.”

“Not nearly as many as you do, Orabeoni.”

The term caught Yoon off guard and he could only blink in stunned silence at her. The Princess must have realized her slipup because she quickly covered her mouth and gasped sharply. However, instead of chastising her, Yoon poked at her nose. Ever since he became Crown Prince, his studies and responsibilities steadily increased. His father was still able to rule the country, but there were disturbing rumors in the palace walls that spoke of his failing health. If that were the truth, then it would only be a matter of time before he was left to ascend to the throne.

Saeryung wouldn’t have any more opportunities to call him “big brother” when that day came.

“Forgive me, Crown Prince! I didn’t mean--”

“It’s fine, Saeryung-ah,” Yoon replied in a soothing tone as he petted her head again, “until I’m King, you can call me your Orabeoni.”

Her apologetic expression melted into one of pure joy. He smirked, then narrowed his eyes and pointed at her nose. She crossed her eyes at the sudden gesture.

“But you can only call me such when it is just the two of us. Understood?”

She nodded happily and was about to hug him when sudden outcries reached them from below.

“Seja Cheo-ha! Gongju-nim!”

“You both must come down from there at once!”

“We will be in terrible trouble if His Majesty finds out we were not at your sides!”

The two of them gazed down at their attendants frantically shifting below them. Rolling his eyes, Yoon scooped up his sister into his arms. Gasping slightly, she clung to his neck as he shifted to a standing position in the tree. His attendants continued to move about fearfully, screaming for him to be careful. He bit back a growl before leaping from the tree and into the air. His robes fluttered around him and he landed easily on the ground, setting his sister down and her servants were immediately at her side to straighten out her hair and robes.

“Princess, you shouldn’t be climbing trees like that!” her maid fussed as she finished tidying up Saeryung’s appearance. “Her Majesty, the Queen, would be appalled if she discovered it.”

Namgil, Yoon’s eunuch, appeared at his side and also adjusted his royal robes. He waited patiently for him to finish, not really listening to the slew of things flying from his attendant’s mouth. However, one particular sentence stood out and caused Yoon to pause, craning his neck to look straight into Namgil’s face.

“What did you say?” he asked, raising a curious brow.

The eunuch bowed his head low, unsure if he’d offended the Crown Prince or not. “Your Majesty requests your presence in his study.”

Yoon was suspicious. His father never called for him in his personal study. Let alone in the middle of the day. The King was fully aware of his itinerary for the afternoon. Yoon was scheduled for martial arts training and riding lessons. Was he supposed to rush through whatever matter his father wanted to speak with him about and make his instructors wait?

If Father is in his study, then it’s a personal matter, Yoon surmised, sighing as he clasped his hands behind his back, which is surprising all by itself.

Narrowing his eyes, he gestured for Namgil to lead the way. He took two steps forward and paused to look around. “...where’s Bidam?”

Just as confused as he was, Namgil spun his body in every direction before groaning. “Curse that Bidam! Leaving the Crown Prince’s side for even a moment!”

Leaves rustled to his right and Yoon quickly pivoted on his back heel to avoid whatever was aimed for him. A sharp whistle tore through the air and he dipped down, his knee crashing to the grass as his shoulders tensed. He was on high alert now after two attacks were propelled in his direction. There would not be a third attempt while he was unarmed.

Namgil screamed after him as Yoon dashed toward the edge of the steps leading to his palace. Reaching underneath the wooden floor panels, he slid a sword from the sheath with one clean motion just as another object hurled itself directly at his head. Lifting the blade up, he blocked the object and felt the handle rattle between his fingers. Something landed at his feet and Yoon recognized it as a throwing knife. Smirking, the Crown Prince took a breath and swept the blade across his body.

Focus, he told himself, you know that he’s here. You just have to pinpoint his location.

The heavy thud of his own heart ached inside of Yoon’s chest. A bead of sweat formed on his brow and he was keenly aware that Namgil and the servants fled the scene. Probably to go fetch the Royal Guard. It was so unnecessary. He wasn’t defenseless. He’d made damn sure of that.

Yoon licked his lips, the flutter of sparrow wings the signal he needed. Launching from his position, he roared at a nearby cluster of bushes. Seconds before he swept his blade down over the hedge, a body leaped from behind. Metal clashed against metal as sword blades made contact. Yoon felt his crown shift on his head before falling to the ground, revealing his pale hair in the morning sunlight. His muscles tensed when the sword clashed against his blade, forcing his boots to skid along the ground and he was now face to face with his assailant.

He grinned. “There you are, Bidam-ah.” Yoon’s voice was slightly strained from the force pushing against him.

Bidam, his bodyguard, grinned back at him. His dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, his thick brows lifting teasingly as he continued to push all of his weight behind his sword. “Good Morning, Seja Cheo-ha,” he said, sweat falling from his temple, “you’re a little slow this morning. Is your mind elsewhere, Your Highness?”

Yoon scoffed, taking a step forward and forcing Bidam to take one back. “My mind is always elsewhere. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

He swung his leg out to kick Bidam but his bodyguard predicted this. He watched as Bidam backward somersaulted into the air. Just when Yoon was going to unleash his counterattack, several sets of feet thundered into his palace garden. He lowered his stance and Bidam immediately sheathed his sword as the Queen and her attendants rushed inside, followed swiftly by the Royal Guard. Yoon bit back a groan at the fearful expression etched over his mother’s features.

“Seja!” she cried, all but running to him. “Are you alright, my Prince?!” He stood patiently as she looked over his entire body to make sure that he was, in fact, free of injuries. “I feared the worst!”

A small measure of guilt welled up inside of Yoon’s heart. He wished his mother would stop needlessly worrying over him. “I am fine , Mother. I was training with Bidam.” He cast a casual smirk to Bidam who met his gaze briefly before lowering his head. “Right, Bidam-ah?”

Bidam immediately fell to one knee, one arm crossing his chest as he pounded his fist into his collar. “Forgive me for stirring up chaos in the Palace, Your Majesty.”

The Queen’s shoulders visibly sank and her attendants were at her side to keep her from losing her balance. Namgil retrieved the prince’s crown and handed it back to him. He held it out to his mother who took it in her trembling hands as she watched Yoon lower himself at the Queen’s feet. Some of the servants gasped and whispered to each other and the Prince continued to stare at the patch of grass around the hems of his mother’s robes.

Hearing her sigh, she gently set his crown back atop his head, her gentle hands framing his face. She lifted his head so that he was now staring up at her. “It is good to train your body and mind, My Prince, but please be careful. You are the future father of this nation. If your body is harmed, your people are harmed. When your people are sick, you are sick. Do you understand, Seja?”

“Yes, Mother. I understand.” Standing to his full height, he let his mother take his hands into hers. Her fingers caressed over his knuckles.

“Your Father was asking for you, wasn’t he?” The Queen looped her arm through his. “Would you allow your mother to accompany you?”

“Of course,” Yoon said with a wide flourish of his arm, “but I thought you were scheduled to have tea with the Queen Dowager and the princesses?”

The Queen hummed and nodded as they moved through the gardens of his palace and out over the bridge leading to the main palace. “I can take the time to escort the Crown Prince to his own destination.”

Yoon’s entourage walked alongside his mother’s and they all chatted together in polite levels so as to not disturb the Queen and Crown Prince’s conversation. The days were peaceful, but mostly in part to how well-guarded the Palace was from the chaos of the outside world. But Yoon was no fool. Ming was growing restless because of Japanese opposition. It would only be a matter of time before Japan would attempt its invasion of Joseon in order to sink their claws into Ming.

He wondered if his father had any contingencies in place if such a thing were to actually transpire.

Arriving at the main palace gates, the Queen released Yoon’s arm and smiled. “Enjoy your time with your father, Seja.”

Yoon bowed, as did the rest of his servants. “Be well, Eomma Mama.” He waited until his mother and attendants were out of sight before turning back to face the main gate. “Let’s go.”

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years ago

Text

Shadow’s Birthright | MYG

Chapter 03: Dark Passions

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Lee Yoon) x Female OC (Kalina Shuri)

Warnings: Historical setting, caste system, magic/sorcery, graphic violence, disturbing graphic images, religious tones, angst, slow burn, smut

Additional Warnings: Oral (female receiving), heavy teasing, internal possession, body worship

Previous Chapters: Prologue 01 02

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 4,869

Tag List: @luxekook, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @stillcopingxx, @taevkimchi, @aroseforyoongi, @vivpurple7, @happilystrongthroughthedark, @sw33tnight, @nikkitane, @mini-coop25

AN: And we have the smuts finally. Woo. I did it early this time, guys. Again, I just want to let everyone know that this series is going to be updated slowly. Like, one chapter a week. So just be patient with me. I promise you that it will be worth the wait. If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to drop me a line!

“Never love anybody who treats you like you’re ordinary.” - Oscar Wilde

Kali sighed as she watched the moon slowly rise over the mountain peaks. The world was still and quiet, the occasional chirp of the cicada barely audible in the silence that blanketed over everything. Turning her head slightly, she smiled as she watched Yoongi sleep. It took a bit longer than she might have wanted, but with the aid of a sleeping draught, he finally relaxed and allowed her to tuck him into his bedroll.

San slept faithfully at its master’s feet, his large head lifting when he heard Kali move to stand. The wolf started to get up, but she placed her hand out and shook her head. The wolf yawned and shook its upper body before settling back comfortably on the floor. She bent down to pet the wolf’s head between his ears and smiled when one of his ears flicked at the touch.

Scooping up her satchel, she reached inside and pulled out several books. Setting them on a nearby shelf, Kali made sure the letter was nestled between the pages of the book on top. After ascertaining that the two of them were sound asleep, Kali pressed herself out of the humble mountain home and stepped out onto the cool night air.

“I’m sure he will be seeking me out soon,” she murmured, gripping the strap of her satchel in one hand as she lifted her face toward the sky, “the tiger will bare his fangs if I do not answer his summons.”

With a wave of her hand, the space in front of Kali rippled. The trees, grass, and fireflies all blurred and tilted in motion. Finally, a dark hole appeared and she stepped through the portal. Once inside, a swirling galaxy of stars and light appeared around her. The large expanse of the void rippled with each step she took. Many voices careened at her body from every direction, causing her heartbeat to elevate with each second she was inside of that dimension.

Another portal opened in front of her after walking several meters. Without blinking, Kali passed through the large black opening. When she reappeared, she was back in her own personal quarters in her home just outside of the Crown City. Sighing, she took a quick look over herself in her vanity’s mirror. Her satchel barely touched the ground just as a loud knock echoed from outside.

Kali had no servants. She had no need for them. Despite a certain royal’s persistence, she refused to have any attendants that could possibly spy on her during her ritual prayers or when she crossed into The Veil. Joseon was still a skeptical nation and its people were quick to yell “heresy”, even without all the information. Being branded a foreign devil, the last thing Kali wanted was anyone being able to prove just how much power simmered beneath her fingertips.

Adjusting the front of her robes, she retreated from her chambers and out to the main courtyard. Her estate was small in comparison to most noble households, but the King spared no expense when it came to her comfort. Her biggest budget crusher was her personal garden that was full of plants of different varieties to help with her potions. Kali took a moment to survey her plants, despite the heavy persistent knocking rattling the large wooden gate to her estate. She was in no hurry to answer since she already knew who was on the other side.

She managed to clip a few sprigs of tea leaves and some Nightshade before the erratic knocking began to grate on her nerves. Placing the items into the leather pouch that swung from her hip, she approached the gate and slid the large wooden bracer ff the panels. Shoving the wooden gate hard, it swung out loudly and knocked into the person on the other side hard enough for them to fall on their backside. He looked up, perplexed, as she scowled down at him, biting back an irritated snarl.

“Persistence is only a virtue in some religions, Sir,” she said, her tone even, “patience is a virtue every child of man should learn to embrace.”

The young man scrambled to his feet, dusting off his clothing as he readjusted the hat on his head. “F-Forgive me, Lady Shuri!” He quickly bowed his head, apologies tumbling from his lips, before he reached to his side and pulled out the messenger cylinder hanging from his shoulders. He hurriedly untwisted the cap, pulling out the rolled up piece of paper inside. With his head bowed, he handed it to her.

Unfurling it slowly, her eyes scanned over the elegant brush strokes that belonged to the Crown Prince. He was asking for, as she knew he would. Wishing for his fortune to be read was simply a ruse. It always was. What he longed for was something that she could happily give to him. As a subject of Joseon, even as a foreigner, it was her duty to give into his desires. It was the one thing she could do to help tampen the madness that was already starting to brew inside of him.

She couldn’t deny him, even if she wanted to.

Folding the note away, she slipped it into the sleeve of her robe. “I will be there as His Highness wishes,” Kali replied, already moving back into her estate.

“B-But, My Lady...His Highness, the Crown Prince, said that I should escort you personally.”

She glanced at the messenger over her shoulder, cutting her eyes at him. All he could do was stand frozen in terror before a dark smile spread over her full lips. “His Highness will receive me when I am ready to be received. He knows I have been traveling and need to change.” Kali began closing the gate. “I will see him soon.”

The messenger swallowed the lump in his throat, fearing more for his life than for the lack of her presence accompanying him on the way back to the palace. But if he was smart, he would relay her words exactly as she said them to the Crown Prince. He would know the meaning behind them and he would be patient for her. Otherwise there was no meaning or value to their relationship in the first place.

Pulling the pin from her hair, her dark tresses fell about her neck and shoulders as she entered her manor. It wouldn’t take her long to gather up the herbs and oils needed for a nice soak in the bath. As for her clothing choice, Kali knew she would have to pick something shimmery but tasteful.

Even if her robes would not be on her person for very long.

It was late and he’d dismissed his servants for the evening. There were the standard guards posted outside of his palace entrance, but other than that, he was completely alone. The Crown Princess requested to see him, for him to spend the night at the Magnolia Pavilion, but Yoon refused. He would see his wife another night. But not tonight.

Tonight was reserved for one person and one person only.

Yoon paced inside of his personal chambers for what felt like hours. Every so often, he would reach up to bite his thumbnail both from impatience and aggravation. It would be a lie to say that his anger hadn’t flared when the messenger returned with Kalina’s words. As impertinent as he imagined her tone to be, he knew that what she spoke was the truth. Kalina was not a person of Joseon and, as such, not one of his people.

She held a certain level of autonomy within the Joseon Royal Court because of her standing with the King. Whispers of him being bewitched by the foreign soothsayer spread throughout the different Noble Factions. But everyone also knew how faithful the King was to the Queen. He had two royal consorts, but the Queen always had his father’s favor above the others. The other two concubines were arranged marriages from two different court factions. Yoon’s own wife was a member of the Western Faction of Nobles.

As it stood, no one in the royal family could marry someone outside of their own country. Not like in the times of their ancestors, when Kings were warriors and legends were carved in stone; immortalizing them forever. Joseon was a strict nation; even more so after the Goryeon Empire crumbled to the ground. But if Yoon could have his way, he would pass an edict that allowed him to marry someone outside of their own nation state.

For his own selfish reasons, of course.

Flopping onto the silk cushion behind his desk, Yoon grunted. He was growing more and more impatient. How long was she planning to make him wait?

Just as he was preparing to mentally chastise her, energy warped in the far corner of his room. The Crown Prince stood, the steady beat of his heart escalating as the color palette in one part of his room began to shift. Saliva collected around the inside of his mouth as Yoon slowly stood from the floor.

This wasn’t the first time.

This wasn’t the second time.

Kalina rarely came to him in this fashion, but when she did, it never got old.

He could watch her enter through that portal like a timeless dream until he ceased to exist.

The first thing he saw were her sleeves; a deep, rich purple spun from the finest silk and trimmed in silver. Her lithe fingers, modestly decorated with stone rings, reached into the space that occupied his chambers. The rest of her entered his room, her skin like chestnuts freshly plucked as her raven hair danced about her shoulders - just barely hidden beneath the softness of the robes she wore. She was barefoot, her toes peeking out from beneath the hems of her dress; the aroma of rose petals and lavender oils permeating his senses.

Sweat prickled along the back of his neck, her own neck bare save for a single jade pendant that hung from a thin black chain. She dipped her head slightly, looking up at him from beneath a hooded gaze. Kalina’s long lashes accentuated the forest green of her eyes, cheeks slightly tinted a soft pink from either the warmth or a flush at seeing him.

He didn’t care which it was.

The portal closed behind her with a mere wave of her hand. The magic that existed there almost seemed to vanish, but he could sense the power that circulated through her blood. Her arms swept out to either side of her as she delicately lowered herself to the floor. Everything fluttered around her, the candle flames dancing at her mere presence. Her head was bowed, but he could still see the smile on her face; like she’d succeeded in trapping the greatest game the likes of which man had ever seen.

Like any warrior, Kalina seemed to hold no such openings for Yoon to exploit. Yet she could pierce through every single one of his defenses. All it took was one simple phrase.

“Kalina Shuri is here, my Crown Prince,” she said, a bell-like lilt in her voice. Kalina lifted her face as he stared pointedly down at her. “...I am here, Lee Yoon.”

The trigger was always his name. His true name.

No one was allowed to whisper it. Not even his own wife. His parents set that name aside when he was elevated to the rank of Crown Prince. Lee Yoon disappeared from within the palace walls.

Only this exquisite creature before him, a being who seemingly had not aged since he was a child, dared to call him by name.

Yoon launched himself from the other side of the room, intent on laying his hands over every single inch of her. But just as he was less than a meter away, something stopped him. His body was rigid and no matter how hard he grunted, he was unable to break free. Wide eyes moved to look at Kalina, watching as the woman held her hand out at him - palm facing outward. There was a soft vibration in the air that sang over his skin, causing the hairs on the back of his arm to prickle. Sweat slid down the column of his neck, disappearing beneath his robes.

“Kalina,” he managed to choke out, feeling the veins starting to pop near his temple. Yoon’s eyes narrowed as she slowly rose from her seated position. “Release me at once.”

She was standing at her full height and was still a full head shorter than him. Yet in that body thundered supernatural power that only existed in myths and legends. That same power that was holding him bound in place, unable to take a single step toward her. Instead, she smirked, inching her way forward as the sleeves of her robe slid off just a bit to bare a shoulder to him.

“Now, now, Seja Cheo-ha,” Kalina said, the bell tone replaced with something deep and velvety, “the night is still young and I have not seen you in weeks.” She leaned forward, pressing her nose into the curve of his jaw. Her scent filled his lungs instantly, breathing her in at the exact moment she breathed him in. “Let me have a look at you, hm?”

This was torture. Yoon should have her flogged, but the way she plucked him like a brand new harp was deliciously unfair.

“Release me now, Kalina,” Yoon half-snarled as he felt the tip of her tongue press against his throat, “you jest far too much.”

Her hand glided over his shoulder, teasing at the baby hairs near the back of his neck. Kalina lifted her face to peer into his eyes and had it not been for her spell, he would have lost his ability to stand completely. The sorceress pouted. “But you’re going to be leaving for a long journey soon, are you not?” He shouldn’t have been surprised, but the expression appeared anyway. “Is that not why you summoned me?”

Yoon frowned. She was going to make him beg. This was outlandish.

“Will you have me beg, woman?” The question showcased his ire, but this only caused her smile to widen.

“A lowly being such as myself would never request such a thing,” Kalina whispered, her hand gesturing over his body.

What spell held him was lifted. Upon his release, he grabbed her and harshly tackled her onto his plush bedroll. The sorceress released a soft giggle, failing to abate his anger. He hadn’t pinned her arms down and she took the initiative to reach up and pull at the small pin that held his hair in place. His white-blonde tresses fell around his shoulders like a soft curtain of wheat and he felt a ripple slip down his spine.

Her fingers combed through his hair and for a while, neither of them spoke. Only the hushed sounds of their breaths existed between them. He lifted one hand up to press the pads of his fingers against the soft skin around her jaw. He let his thumb dip in between her lips and Yoon released a soft hiss when he felt her bite down around the digit. The loose-fitting robes suddenly felt too tight as his erection threatened to rub itself raw against the silk.

Removing his hand from her face, he slid it between the loose fabric nestled around her legs. He could feel her heat and his brows lofted when he realized how bare her attire actually was. Her flush-kissed cheeks grew a deeper shade of pink and he flashed her a predatory smirk.

“Were you preparing yourself for me?”

Kalina huffed an impetuous laugh. “Isn’t it a servant’s duty to always know the needs of one’s master?”

He bit back a groan. Her words were like a spider’s web, trapping him further. The harder Yoon struggled, the more he was ensnared.

Tearing at her clothes like a wild animal, every layer was peeled away to expose her sweat-tinged skin to him. He saw her lifting her hand, reaching out toward where the candles were, but he swiftly snatched at her wrist to stop her. She lifted a brow at him, aptly curious as to his intentions.

“No,” he whispered, bringing her hand up so he could press a soft kiss to the inside of her palm, “leave the light.” He grazed his teeth along the center of her hand, giving it a sharp nip. “I want to have a look at you.”

Leaning forward, he pressed his face along the valley of Kalina’s breasts; soft, pugnacious and full of warmth. He could feel the thrum of her heartbeat against his nose and he trailed his tongue between her breasts, a lascivious hunger threatening to burst from his entire body. Yoon’s hand fondled one mound and he used his other hand to pull at the ribbons keeping his robe cinched to his body. He ached for her. Yearned for her to release him from his demons.

Because only she could and she knew it.

His silk trousers fell easily off his waist and he kicked them from his legs in haste. Reaching behind him, he pulled his dark blue robes off his body and tossed them to the side; abandoned with Kalina’s own robes. He was hard and ready, his hands coated in her juices as he reached down to play with her folds. Decreed by the Heavens to rule, Yoon could only see himself worshiping this witch that lay bare in front of him.

Her fingers curled into the hair at the crown of his head, urging him forward as he pressed kisses along her stomach. He turned to press his teeth into the tender skin of her inner thigh and he smiled when he heard the gasp push from her throat. Inhaling deeply, he relished in her womanly scent before diving into her velvet heat to have his late night snack.

Yoon swirled his tongue over her clit, the taste of her enough to get him intoxicated. The glistening moisture around her thigh made his mouth water. He wanted to draw as much sound from this woman as he could. He would never tire of this taste; this aroma. She smelled sweet and dangerous. A deadly draught.

She was a poison that he would happily drink, the promise of unparalleled ecstasy at the core of her being.

Her moans permeated the room, lost along the silk folding screens and the sheer curtains as her own sweat soaked into the silk bedroll. She quivered under his touch, his kiss, from everything he was doing to her and more. He pulled back from her folds, his lips shining with the leftovers of her essence and proof of the meal he’d indulged in. Kalina moved to kiss him, but Yoon stopped her with a gentle clasp of his fingers around her throat - bearing the brunt of his weight on his other arm that was braced just on the other side of her head.

Yoon selfishly licked his lips, cleaning his mouth of every drop of her. He wouldn’t share. Not even with her and it was hers to begin with. He teased her folds with the tip of his erection as he felt her hips rise up to meet his own with a subtle push. His teeth snapped as he hissed, his dark eyes meeting her smoldering greens. He had her where he wanted her. Where he needed her. The level of restraint he was holding back made his arms tremble.

The look on her face, that look, was for no one else. Just him. The way her heart beat in her chest? It was for him. Kalina was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. The way the candlelight flickered across her body, cascading golden rays like the morning sun long her skin, was surreal. It was unfair. Why had the gods done this to him? Created a woman so blindingly beautiful with enough power to make any fearless man’s blood run cold? And he could not have her the way he wanted her; could not possess her the way he desired.

There were feral noises coming from Yoon as he leaned upward. Moving to his knees, he grasped Kalina’s hips and pulled her toward him. Her green eyes danced from the firelight and it nearly stole his breath away.

“Yoon-ah,” she half-sobbed, causing Yoon’s erection to swell even more. He was going to shatter and be dust in the wind if she said his name that way again. All it would take was one more croon from her voice and he would be ruined.

Ruined as he’d been ruined time and again by the sorceress.

He could stand it no longer! Yoon held her hips in his hands as he lowered his body. “Not yet,” he murmured, his hooded gaze roving over her body, “wait for me, Kalina…” His own form trembled as he settled her over the head of his throbbing erection.

Yoon bit down on the lower swell of his lip, holding her steady as her legs seemed to open up even further for him. He was drunk off her scent, his vision growing hazy for only a split second before righting itself.

Rolling his hips, he couldn’t help the narcissistic smirk that painted over his features as her legs moved to knock into his sides in an almost vain attempt to wrap them around him. Her heat squeezed him in a multitude of ways and the pleasure that he coaxed out of her was intoxicating - her mewls of strained lust urging him onward with each moment he drove into her. The sorceress’ nails dug into his biceps, gliding up the sweat-soaked surface up to his shoulders before grasping onto the meat of the muscle there.

Tiny puffs of air lifted from her swollen lips - lips that he’d teased and pulled at with his fingers. She was getting close and so was Yoon. His tempo accelerated gradually, a low growl pushing from his throat as he watched her rutting her hips against the slickness of his shaft - their pelvic bones crashing into each other with unbridled need.

Her cry of desperation echoed throughout the room, filling the space both around and between them. This spurred him on, reaching the edge of his own need for release as he felt the stinging pain of her nails dragging along his skin. There would be marks but it was of no consequence to him. He would deal with them before he began his journey. There would be questions but no answers would be given.

Heat spread through, filling her with everything until he was well and truly spent. The young woman beneath him had already succumbed to the pleasure she was given, her orgasm making her limbs grow weak.

Bucking his hips into her one more time, Yoon rode out the rest of his aftermath before slipping out of her with ease.

Rolling onto his side, he pulled Kalina with him so that she could nestle into the crook of his arm. For a while, all they did was share in heavy breathing as they attempted to recover. Yoon didn’t worry about falling asleep and someone finding them in that state in the morning. Kalina always left before the break of dawn, something that he mourned in the darkest corner of his heart. But decorum was standard in the Joseon Royal Court, something even he must adhere to.

He closed his eyes as her fingers traced over his brow, sweeping a few sweat-soaked locks from his cheek and tucking them behind his ear. Taking in another deep breath, he brought her just a bit closer to savor her warmth and scent.

“My poor, sad Prince,” she whispered, causing his eyes to snap open as he peered at her. Her expression looked solemn and Yoon wondered if Kalina was about to go to that far away place he could never reach. “So much pain. So much sorrow.” Her fingers, once again, combed through his hair. “So...unnecessary.”

Kalina’s words were cryptic. They always were. But they held a deeper meaning somehow.

“When you were a child, you were afraid, weren’t you?”

Yoon blinked, his lips parting slightly. “What nonsense do you speak, Kalina?”

Her eyes lingered on his for a handful of seconds before she pulled at his hair, pressing it between her fingers. “Your hair wasn’t always this fair. Once, it was darker than black.” It wasn’t a question. “Stories of unrest in the palace reached your ears. The struggles of your father in his youth before he was placed on the throne.” Her eyes lifted to look into his face. “Stories of bloodshed.”

An angry knot of pain began to form in Yoon’s chest. She didn’t need to finish this story. He knew it better than anyone. Being the oldest prince guaranteed that he was the next to obtain the crown. And while he had younger siblings, they were all princesses or far too young to even begin taking steps toward resting it away from him; his birthright.

But the fear was still there, gnawing at the back of his mind. His fear led to impulsive decisions. One of them being the ingestion of poisons. Not just one type, but multiple types. All at once. At the age of nine, he nearly died. The physicians were beginning to think that there was no hope.

The Heavens, however, had other plans. They helped him to survive; overcoming his own crazed attempts at ending his life. The result? His hair transformed from jet black to platinum blonde. It happened over the course of one week. There was no explanation for it other than his own body’s form of retaliation to the death that attempted to claim him.

Yoon was officially installed as the Crown Prince the following year.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he felt Kalina’s fingers slowly moving from above his right brow and down below his eye. They stopped just at the halfway mark from his lips and mouth. Something crossed her features, a somber expression, and he could only look upon her with mild wonder.

“This face will be marred someday,” she whispered softly, “but that day will not be tomorrow or the day after.”

Yoon sputtered a small laugh. “Mine will, you say?” He let his hand rest at the curve of her hip. “I’ve trained my body and mind extensively, sorceress. Unless it is you, no one would be able to get close enough to harm me.”

Because she was the only person he ever lowered his defenses for.

“You are a powerful and cunning young tiger, it is true,” came her gentle reply, “but that does not mean that your tail cannot be grabbed.”

His eyes narrowed. He wanted to question her; to demand an answer and determine the reasoning behind her ominous words. It was a warning, clearly. But a warning of what?

Before he could ask, however, Kalina was already pulling herself from his embrace and retrieving her robes. He sat up slowly, grabbing his own robe and draping it over his shoulders. Shuffling to his desk, he retrieved the hairpin and waited for her to finish wrapping herself up. Just as she cinched the wide silk waistband around her midsection, he began to pull up her hair. Her head turned slightly but he used his hand to keep her head facing forward.

“My Prince?”

“Shh,” he hushed, moving to gather up her thick waves in one hand, “let me do this for you.”

She hummed her assent, waiting for him to finish. It only took a handful of seconds to fully secure her hair in the pearl hairpin. Her hand moved to trace her fingers over the hair ornament and she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Is it beautiful?” she asked while smiling up at him.

“It pales in comparison to you, sorceress, but it will have to do.”

Yoon cupped her chin in his hand, lifting her face up to meet his as he captured her lips in his own. They were dangerously close, but he held himself back. If he pursued any further, he would not let her leave.

He would cage her forever.

He watched her rise gracefully from the floor, the hem of her robes sweeping over the bamboo flooring. Every single curve of her form defied logic and as he watched her opening up the portal to leave, part of Yoon truly did want to capture her; to claim her as his and no one else’s. It was a selfish, hungry and dangerous desire, but it was there all the same. He could not ignore it.

With a soft gaze, she smiled and dipped her head low. “Your journey will be free of perils and you will obtain success. Have no fear, my Crown Prince.”

And like a dream, she disappeared into the void, dousing the candle flames and leaving Yoon to ponder her words as everything plunged into darkness.

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thebiasrekkers · 5 years ago

Text

Touch In The Dark — MYG

For the @btswriterscorner - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day!

Plot: Min Yoongi comes from the prestigious family of Blue Blood lineage. However, to appear philanthropic in the eyes of the public, they volunteered their son to marry someone from “humble” origins. Two years have passed since he’s been married to his poor, orphan wife. But for the first time in two years, he’s starting to take note of things about her that are causing shifts in his views of her, shaking his heart.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: dystopian!au/dystopian themes | angst | romance/fluff

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female OC (Kiara Townsend)

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of suicide, extreme angst, interracial/intercultural relationship, arranged marriage

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 7,936

AN: I never thought I would write a story like this. I think this is the softest I’ve ever written for the boys. I know I only have one piece of lit for the fandom, but I have to say that this project caught me a little off guard. I never thought I would write Yoongi this soft, but it’s a very non-conventional soft. So I hope you all enjoy the world I was able to build from this, hug your loved ones a little close, and know that you are always loved. All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

~ k.t. ~

On the day she was told that she’d been chosen as the “Charity Selection” for The Lottery, Kiara tried to kill herself.

The heavy knocks sounded like thunder inside her tiny, rundown studio apartment. She stared back at her reflection in the bathroom, a handful of sleeping pills clutched in her palm over the porcelain. She’d purchased a full bottle of the prescription strength medication off the black market. It took her months to save up enough money to buy them.

Attempted suicide was a serious offense, punishable by large fines and incarceration for three months, followed by six months of psychiatric evaluation. The global population was already off-kilter with how many people suffered losses from wars, hunger and poverty. Decreasing the numbers in any amount was detrimental to society’s ability to rebuild and stabilize its structure.

The knocking continued incessantly. Kiara knew if she didn’t answer the door, they would just kick it in and find out what she was up to. Sighing, she put the pills back into the bottle and placed it in the medicine chest behind the smudged mirror.

Twelve paces. That’s how long it took for her to make it from the bathroom to the front door. The ratty sofa doubled as her bed and the thin, pale blue blanket could hardly be considered covers. While Kiara did not get sick often, she could not stay warm during the winter months. Central heating was a luxury she couldn’t afford and space heaters were few and far between. The yellowing paint peeled off the walls and the stainless steel door knobs, once shiny and new, were now dull and gray from years of neglect.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by a man in a three-piece suit and two armed soldiers. He was an official from The Lottery office and he handed her a letter. He congratulated her, telling her how fortunate she was to have been chosen for the “Charity” portion of the Lottery. He explained that everything she needed to know about her future husband was in the envelope and that she could read it on the flight to meet him.

She’d never flown in an airplane before.

Kiara didn’t own much. All of her furniture were either hand-me-downs or things she found on the side of the road. Her clothes, what few she had, could all be stuffed into a single duffel bag. Her friends doted on her, telling her how lucky she was to have been chosen. They all pooled together and bought her a pretty sundress to wear since it was approaching Summer. Kiara promised to contact them whenever she was fully settled.

On the flight over, Kiara took a good look over the files she’d received.

Yoongi Min. 26. South Korean. Computer programmer. His home was Daegu and he still lived with his family, as per tradition in the country. He was fluent in English, which was a relief. He was definitely handsome - dark auburn hair, pierced ears, and umber eyes that almost appeared a little withdrawn. Or was it sadness?

Was he hurting on the inside too?

At her request, one of the flight attendants gave her a tablet for her to study. She didn’t want to embarrass herself on the first day of meeting him.

If the plane didn’t crash on the way. Kiara could only be so lucky.

Yoongi wasn’t the one who picked her up from the airport. It was someone from the family’s household staff. He was a kind looking middle-aged man and he helped her load what few belongings she had into the trunk of her car. The drive from Incheon to Daegu was long. The driver, Mr. Song, told her she could take a nap if she liked. But there were so many questions she wanted to ask and she was grateful that he was also fluent in English.

There were things she discovered about Yoongi that she felt she could relate to. He was an avid reader and enjoyed music. He preferred his solitude and when he had the time to spare, he took pictures and tended the garden at his family’s home. There were servants to handle such things as yardwork, but Yoongi insisted on raising seedlings in a greenhouse.

After she arrived at his family’s home, she was welcomed by the rest of the staff. Yoongi, again, did not greet her. His parents did, however. They were not so fluent in English, but they were kind enough to allow one of the maidservants to translate what they were saying to Kiara. She both nodded and shook her head at the appropriate questions. Nothing they asked was outside of a “yes” or “no” response.

“Are you healthy?”

“Are your parents really dead?”

“Were you comfortable on the plane?”

“You’ve never flown on an airplane before, have you?”

And finally, the question that served as Divine Intervention.

“Are you tired?”

The questioning ended when she nodded. It wasn’t that Kiara wanted to avoid her future In-Laws. She really was tired. She refused to nap on the long drive from Incheon to Daegu and the jet lag was starting to rear its ugly head. She could hardly keep her eyes open. After she was escorted to one of the guest rooms, Kiara barely took note of her luggage on the floor at the foot of the bed.

She fell asleep almost immediately.

When Kiara awoke the next day, she found a handwritten note sitting on the nightstand. Groggy and hungry, she did her best to read the note. Her eyes quickly focused when she realized it was from Yoongi.

Miss Townsend,

I’m glad to see you arrived safely. I know this is a bit of a transition for you, but everything will be fine. I will be out of town on business until the day after tomorrow. Please meet me at City Hall on Wednesday so we can finalize everything.

~ Min Yoongi

Unsure of why, Kiara felt her heart sink. The note seemed so impersonal; business-like. She knew what kind of world they lived in now, but did it really mean that a perpetual wall would exist between them?

Crumpling the note in her hand, she was grateful to be alone. She didn’t think she’d be able to explain the tears if anyone saw her. Mostly because Kiara, herself, couldn’t understand why she was crying.

~ m.y. ~

The days always began the same.

Yoongi woke up, showered, went downstairs and had his cup of coffee. Two spoonfuls of sugar. No cream. He hated watching television because most channels either rattled on political propaganda or spoke about the “Runners” rebelling against society’s standards for the world. He preferred the soft sounds of jazz peeling from the radio speakers. Sometimes it was purely instrumental. Other times, someone was crooning a song about heartbreak. It was an idea that he didn’t quite understand, but the tones were pleasing to the ears.

He wasn’t a fan of it originally. Yoongi only listened to it because she had it playing while she hung laundry out on the line one warm summer day. “Killing Me Softly” droned from the speakers and he could recall the look on her face when he told her to turn it off immediately. Music containing lyrics had been banned as it was a way for artists to spread their messages of love, freedom, insurrection and justice.

She didn’t argue with him, but her expression shifted significantly that day.

In their society, love was something that could not be felt because love equaled passion and passion led to impractical thought. Impractical thoughts led to irrational decisions being made. Wars, hatred, violence: they were all ingredients for disaster that nearly wiped out the population of the world.

But mankind couldn’t very well lead itself to extinction. Population growth was necessary, so long as it was monitored and controlled. Maintaining order was paramount in this new age. The Lottery Bill was established across the world - bridging the racial and cultural divide that continued to exist until the United Nations took matters into their own hands.

The class system was determined by lottery. Blue Bloods all the way to Laborers. Everyone had their place and would accept that place. No one would strive to reach above their station as that would disrupt order and breed chaos. To regulate the classes, lotteries were also pulled for marriage. Couples were chosen from like classes to maintain balance in the system.

But because the world’s government was not cruel, there were families chosen to participate in philanthropic activities. Every year, a small percentage of Laborers were pooled to marry into Blue Blood lineage. It was a way to show the kindness the global governmental body possessed. Most in the Blue Blood class referred to it as “Forced Charity” but they couldn’t argue against the positive impact it had both across the media and in society as a whole.

Min Yoongi’s family was one of the families chosen to participate in the “Forced Charity”. As the only son, he was obligated to be the one to represent their family during The Lottery.

He didn’t make a fuss. When Yoongi received his Summons in the mail, he went to his district’s City Hall and took the envelope from one of the clerks. He had one week to accept the terms presented in his drawing. Since he was willingly volunteering to marry someone outside of his station, he had one opportunity for a redrawing. But only one.

Yoongi opted out of it.

He was living with his parents still and politely asked that they give him privacy. For five days they tormented him about what his bride was like. It wasn’t out of childish rebellion that he hadn’t given them an answer. It was because he truly didn’t know.

On the sixth day, he finally opened the envelope.

Inside contained the dossier of his future bride, as well as a single photograph. Everyone who was eligible for The Lottery was required to have their picture taken at their district’s City Hall, regardless of what part of the world they were from. If his bride-to-be had to travel miles to get to him, then that was what had to be done. There would be no objections from either side.

He had no expectations. There was no reason to disagree with the marriage. Yet a part of him hesitated when it was time to call The Lottery office to have them send for her. The same part that looked at her picture and couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking when she was staring back at the camera. Yoongi wondered if he had the same expression on his face when he’d taken his photo.

Kiara Townsend. 26. African-American, German and Scottish. She had no parents and she worked full-time in a textile factory in North America. Her parents were killed during a neighborhood raid of residents who were presumed to have been involved in an underground movement of sorts - advocating free love and speaking out against the societal norms currently in place for the world.

In the photo, her skin was a golden caramel, hair thick with large curls, and she had prominent brows and a set of full lips. Her eyes, small and hazel in tone, were seemingly endless - like she could see into the very souls of anyone she laid her eyes upon. But there was an emptiness that lingered there in her photo.

After accepting his lottery choice, she was notified and escorted to his home country of South Korea. In three days, they were married. As a wedding present, his parents bought them their own home - a large estate in the Daegu countryside where they would have privacy. She no longer had to work now that she was married to a Blue Blood. Yoongi worked from home as a computer programmer and only went into town once a month for board meetings.

For the first month, neither of them said a word to each other. It was an unspoken rule that they had their own separate spaces in their home. Yoongi rarely slept and when he did, he slept alone. His wife often slept on the couch and he never bothered her to sleep in her own bed.

They were like strangers who happened to share the same address.

Four months went by. Yoongi grew more and more numb to his situation. The whole point of marrying someone was to increase the population. Young men and women were fully educated in the concept of sexual intercourse so that there would be no mistakes during the coupling process. No one was truly a virgin when they were age-appropriate for The Lottery. Sex was no longer an act of pleasure in the world. It was a business transaction.

They didn’t have sex. Neither even so much as touched the other.

Six months into their marriage, Yoongi heard Kiara speak for the first time.

“Can we send the servants home? I want to make dinner tonight.”

The sound of her voice was so soft. He was entranced and nearly forgot to speak. When Yoongi finally found his voice, he replied - realizing that his own tones sounded a little strange to him.

“Alright.”

~ k.t. ~

She hadn’t meant to be silent. There were so many things she wanted to know about her husband. But the very air around him appeared frigid and Kiara knew she didn’t want to bother him. There was a part of her that could sense his loneliness, but she never wanted to push or prod where she wasn’t wanted. The interactions they had between each other were brief, if even at all.

Kiara didn’t have to want for anything. But was this really a life that she could grow accustomed to? It felt like the more she wanted to grow closer with Yoongi, the further he seemed to appear.

Did he hate her? Or not care about her? When he fussed at her about playing the radio, she wondered if she was simply an eyesore to him.

Wasn’t it better to simply stay out of his way?

The months bled on and while they were finally sharing small bits of conversation here and there, Kiara could sense the gap between them slowly transforming into a chasm. There were times when she caught him looking at her when she was busying herself around the kitchen or even putting away clothes. She was so used to a hard, springy mattress from her pullout bed in her studio that Kiara found it easy to fall asleep on one of the many couches throughout the house.

Their house.

But was it really her house? Could she call it her home?

Eight months into their marriage, she woke up in a bed after having fallen asleep while reading on the sofa. The warm blankets and plush down startled Kiara, causing her to halfway scramble from the bed. The room was unfamiliar to her and she felt slightly trapped. Most people would be elated to wake up in a room with pristine, painted walls, an elegant vanity table, and clean blankets and pillows. It was warm and inviting, something that Kiara saw in the pages of magazines. She never dreamed she would be able to sleep in a room like this. It was part of the reason why she couldn’t bring herself to do it in the first place.

Who could have brought her there? One of the servants, maybe?

Sighing, she took a moment to study the room she was in - the room that was designated as “hers”. It was as unfamiliar to her as the day she first set foot in this country. While Kiara understood the language and continued to learn the customs and culture of South Korea, there was a part of her that still felt strangely out of place. It shouldn’t have been the case, not with The Lottery Bill having been in effect for several years now.

Only when her raging heartbeat slowed down a measure, did she notice the small note resting on the nightstand. With slightly trembling fingers, Kiara picked up the note and read it.

Stop sleeping on the couch. There’s a perfectly good bed not being put to use.

You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable for no reason.

Haven’t you suffered enough in your life?

~ Yoongi

A warm feeling slowly blanketed her entire body. Kiara pressed the note to her chest as she sat on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel. Relief? Understanding? Perhaps. Maybe even a little hopeful.

There was the faint aroma of spices permeating into her room from the gap below the door. Setting the note down, Kiara left her room and made her way out into the hallway. The stairwell was just a few feet away, but she paused in front of Yoongi’s bedroom. Her eyes lingered a little further to the third door at the other end of the hallway - the master bedroom. It seemed that Yoongi opted to stay in a guest bedroom just like hers.

Was that out of concern for her? Did he not want to appear entitled?

But that didn’t make any sense. He was a Blue Blood. His very lineage was entitlement, wasn’t it?

So then...why?

Her palm slid along the railing of the stairwell, her bare feet gliding over the perfectly polished wooden floor. She could hear a pot boiling as someone chopped methodically in the kitchen. When she reached the entrance, Kiara peeked her head around the corner. She felt like a small child stumbling across their parent in the middle of some adult task.

Yoongi was focused on chopping vegetables for a stew. The meat was already fully cooked in the broth and he appeared to be putting the final touches on what he was doing. Kiara gazed at his exposed forearms in awe - watching the muscles tensing as he worked. Her eye-line shifted, roving over the curve of his shoulders to the juncture of his slender neck. Sweat gathered around his temple and trailed down his jawline and with each movement, she saw his earrings twinking under the kitchen’s amber light fixture.

She couldn’t recall a time when she’d seen a man as beautiful as her husband.

As if he’d sensed her presence, Yoongi craned his neck to look at her - his arms moving to slide the vegetables off the carving board and into the stew pot. He turned the burner down while setting the chopping board into the sink. Washing his hands, he then wiped them clean with a dish towel as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Did you sleep well?”

Kiara nodded. “I did, thank you.”

“Good.”

There was a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch towards the edge of forever. Just as Kiara took a step forward, preparing to offer some kind of assistance, did Yoongi finally break the silence.

“I dismissed the servants,” he offered gently, his gaze meeting hers for what she felt like was the very first time since they were married, “it’s not like they really have much to do around here.”

Kiara didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. Unconsciously, she began wringing her hands together. She very nearly averted her gaze until he spoke again.

“I’ll probably send them back to my parents’ home.”

Again, her eyes locked with his. His expression stayed neutral and Kiara felt a lump forming in her throat.

“Would it be okay if it was just the two of us?”

Her eyes widened slightly, unsure of what he was implying. But it was true that the servants didn’t have much to do in their home. Yoongi hardly made a mess and what mess he did make, he often cleaned up after himself. The same could be said of Kiara. If anything, the servants were often shuffling around and attempting to find something to do so they didn’t appear to have idle hands.

Surely they could take care of themselves, right?

Kiara didn’t know what expression to make, so she kept her face from shifting too much. Maybe it was out of need to keep herself just a little more guarded because of the lack of interaction for so long. She couldn’t be sure. But appearing too vulnerable, too open, could be just as much of a mistake as being too closed off.

Taking a breath, she nodded once more.

“If you’re alright with it, then I would like that, too.”

~ m.y. ~

He didn’t shower her with gifts because of an impulsive decision.

He bought her things because he knew she chose to go without.

Kiara came from a world that was vastly different than his own. Yoongi could hardly fathom the idea of not having enough clothes in his closet or enough food in his fridge. But she never complained about anything - whether he bought too much or not enough. She graciously accepted everything that was given.

What was even more puzzling, however, was how a mild feeling of irritation blossomed when Kiara didn’t utilize the things he’d given her immediately. He knew she was grateful and she rarely made a fuss about anything. The one time he ever saw her upset in the entire year they’d been married was when he’d made the comment about the radio.

Hadn’t they reached a compromise?

Biting his lower lip, he found it difficult to focus on his computer work. Everything looked like Egyptian hieroglyphics, which was saying something considering that Yoongi lived, breathed, and dreamed about coding. He became a computer software programmer out of necessity for the ever-advancing world of technology they lived in. Modern society was growing more and more dependent on smart devices, which would have been a shame had he lived in a different world.

People often missed the world around them when their eyes were glued to a screen.

The latch unhooked from the door, causing him to shift his gaze from the computer monitor. When it slowly opened, he saw Kiara quietly enter - arms cradling a small serving tray. Yoongi leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers through each other as she approached. She set a plate of toast, jam, and fruit on the desk - her motions smooth and practiced. She finally set the cup of steaming hot coffee beside the plate, as well as utensils wrapped in a cloth napkin.

“You should take a break,” she said, the tray resting against her stomach, “you’ve been working non-stop for about four hours now.”

He set the computer to hibernation mode. “I didn’t realize I’d been here that long.”

“You can leave the tray outside when you’re finished.”

Yoongi watched her turn to leave, his body reacting before his mind could process what he was doing. Before he realized it, he was out of his chair and reaching out to grasp her shoulder - stopping Kiara from leaving him. He felt her muscles tensing and Yoongi pulled his hand back immediately. Slowly, she turned to face him again.

Her hazel eyes appeared to glow from the twilight rays peeling in through the windows of his office.

His heart crashed into his chest with heavy thuds. A lump slowly formed in his throat and he made a vain attempt to swallow oxygen through the closing airways. Yoongi knew he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what that something was. He opened his mouth to speak and, again, no words came out.

All he could do was push the bubble in his throat down into the knot twisting in his chest.

Sensing something was amiss, Kiara set the tray down on the desk. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi remained silent, studying the crease on her brow as her curls bounced around cheeks and shoulders. She reached her hand up, pressing the flat of her palm on his forehead.

“You’re a little warm, but you don’t seem to have a fever.”

Every representation of logic was screaming at him to pull away - telling him to replace the wall that existed between them for the last year. She hadn’t moved her hand from his skin and Yoongi felt his vision swimming for half a second before refocusing back on her face.

How had he missed the beauty mark at the corner of her left eye?

Taking a step back, he watched her arm continue to hover in the air for a few seconds before settling back at her side. Yoongi saw something pass over her face, but it was so quick that he wasn’t sure he’d seen anything at all.

Kiara brushed some of her curls behind her ear. “I’ll head to the market and pick up a few things. Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll take care of them when I come back.”

Then she turned away from him to head out of his study, leaving him alone without so much as a second glance.

His chest hurt.

Flopping back into his chair, Yoongi carded his fingers through his hair in frustration - hands resting at the back of his neck as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

“...I didn’t even thank her.”

~ k.t. ~

The months were getting colder. Kiara wasn’t a fan of the cold, but she loved seeing the snow in South Korea. Everything was covered in a soft blanket of white. It gave her an excuse to indulge in a savory meal, wrap up in a warm blanket, and read by the fireplace. Yoongi was in Seoul for a business meeting, leaving her alone to her own devices. This was the first winter that she would get to experience without the servants around, fussing over her in case she hadn’t acclimated to the weather.

She took a warm bath, drank from a large glass of wine, and enjoyed the book she’d discovered near the back of the library. Most of the books in Yoongi’s library were reference books and non-fiction. She’d combed through most of them. But nestled in the very back, tucked away in a hidden nook, was a small collection of fictional literature. There were more than a dozen; small in comparison to the rest of his library. But the discovery of it surprised her just the same. In the year she’d been married to Yoongi, he always seemed very “by the book” and she couldn’t forget the comment he made about the music she was listening to while hanging up laundry. Finding something of this caliber was like stumbling across buried treasure.

Kiara was currently flipping through the pages of Animal Farm by George Orwell. She chose it because next to 1984 , it had the most worn out spine. It meant that Yoongi read it the most in comparison to the others in his entire collection.

Upon completing the novel, she could see why.

Politics. Justice. Equality. Inequality. A corrupt system. Broken families. Broken societies. A dream that fizzled away to greed - a dream that would only remain a dream so long as dictators felt that “some were more equal than others”.

There was a small part of Kiara that almost seemed to understand Yoongi a little bit better. He was a thinker and also compassionate. He never asked her to do more than what she needed and he readily provided her with anything she would ever need. It was the sort of life that Kiara wasn’t used to for over twenty years of being part of the Labor Class.

Yet something was still missing…

The sudden slamming of the door startled Kiara, causing her to drop the book into the bathwater. She panicked, knocking over the wine glass as she flailed to pull the book out. The pages instantly soaked - some of them were already falling out from the binding. She released a sob while pulling the plug to drain the water, clambering haphazardly out of the tub. Her heel found the bath rug by the tub and she could only cling helplessly to the pages, gathering up what remained in the bathtub into her trembling hands.

There was a knock at the door and she whirled around to face it.

“Is everything alright in there?”

Yoongi was home early. Looking at the ruined book in her hands, Kiara’s heart sank.

“I-I’m fine,” she said, leaning down to pick up the wine glass, “I’ll be out in just a moment.”

“Take your time.”

When she heard his footsteps fading away, Kiara sighed as she wrapped a towel around her body. She used a smaller one to clean up the mess on the floor - grabbing a small plastic bowl and filling it with water so she could wash what remained to let it drain out in the center of the bathroom. She let out another sigh, brushing her fingers through her wet curls. It was better to be honest and get it over with, wasn’t it?

Drying herself off, she slid into her pajamas, grabbed the ruined book, and made her way downstairs. Yoongi poured himself a drink in the kitchen, taking note of her presence with a simple nod. He held the glass up and out toward her.

“Drink?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I had some wine earlier.”

“Ah, I see,” he replied gently, replacing the cap on the whiskey bottle.

There was a small measure of silence that stretched between them and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, her fingers digging into the wet pages of the book currently hidden behind her back.

“Uh, Yoongi?”

He hummed during mid-sip, swallowing and then setting the glass down. “Yes?”

Slowly, she pulled the book around from behind her and held it out to him from across the kitchen island. “I was reading and dropped one of your books in the bath.”

“It’s just a book,” Yoongi said with a shrug.

Kiara bit her lower lip, her hands shaking as she continued to hold the book out to him - waiting for him to take it from her. He looked like he was about to say something, but she noticed his eyes lingering over the cover. When his eyes scanned over it, they widened slightly and it took everything Kiara had not to wince. Her shoulders visibly tensed when he snatched the book from her hands.

Without another word, he left the kitchen. Kiara followed on instinct, her eyes widening when she saw him throwing the book into the open hearth. The flames seemed to fight against the wet pages, but it didn’t take long for the book to burn.

“I’m sor--”

Yoongi was already moving, his body disappearing down the corridor. Her legs were rooted where she stood and Kiara wanted nothing more than to disappear between the cracks - to dip below the earth and vanish into the ether. She could hear his hurried steps and the breath left her lungs when she saw him carrying an armful of books.

Books from his hidden collection.

He moved faster than her brain could keep up and by the time she realized what was happening, he’d already thrown three more books into the fire.

“Yoongi, wait!” she cried, running toward him and pulling at his shirt sleeve, “Please wait! I said I was sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

Yoongi said nothing. He simply continued to throw the books into the fire. When all of those were devoured by the flames in the fireplace, he turned to head back toward the library. Kiara ran at him, wrapping her arms around his waist to stop him. He took three more steps before stopping completely.

She openly sobbed into his back, soaking his shirt as her fingers dug into his stomach to keep him tethered there.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, clinging to him as if he was a life raft, “I’m sorry…”

She felt the flutter of his beating heart against her face, drumming along her cheeks. It almost seemed manic, but his shoulders finally relaxed as she heard him taking several long, deep breaths. The flames popped and crackled in the fireplace, having had its fill from Yoongi’s literature collection. She knew there were still a few more on the shelf in his hidden nook, but Kiara didn’t think she could handle him destroying the things he clearly seemed to care so much about.

“I haven’t read those books in years,” he murmured gently, “I should have gotten rid of them a long time ago.”

Her hands slid up his chest, curling so that her fingers could slip over the curve of his shoulders. Kiara took a breath, sighing through the scent of his cologne.

“But why?”

“Because they’re dangerous. They provoke dangerous thoughts.” He paused and she lifted her face in time to see his head turning slightly. “It’s why they’ve been banned.”

“They’re precious to you, aren’t they?”

“It’s not worth keeping them if they get you into trouble.”

Taking a step back, she blinked and he turned around to face her.

“Me?”

Yoongi nodded. “You’re so curious. I should have known that you would stumble across them eventually. But it’s just like with the music. You have to be careful.”

Kiara wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but she knew could tell that he wasn’t upset about her reading his books. He was upset that she had unknowingly placed herself into danger. He was concerned for her well being.

And that meant something to her. More than she would ever admit out loud.

Averting her gaze, she lowered her head slightly. “...I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing,” Yoongi said, an edge in his tone, “it frustrates me.”

She felt his hands around her shoulders, gripping them tightly. He looked like he was going to shake her, but thought better of it. Instead, he loosened his hold - letting his hands continue to rest on her shoulders. When she next looked up at him, his brows were furrowed and his pupils seemed to shake. She wasn’t sure what was still bothering him. Kiara wanted to know what she could do to make him feel less agitated.

But as she opened her mouth to speak, she lost all words of comfort as Yoongi leaned down toward her face. She was almost positive that her heart either skipped a beat or stopped altogether at that moment. Everything was so quiet. Kiara felt his breath dancing gently over her face as he pressed his cheek against hers, his lips brushing over her cheek.

Kiara was afraid to breathe, believing that the moment she did, it would shatter whatever dream-like illusion she was currently experiencing. The second she heard her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, however, was when Yoongi pulled away. Blinking up at him rapidly, she was sure that her cheeks were inflamed and her hand absentmindedly went to touch her cheek as his hands slid away from her shoulders.

“...don’t stay up too late,” he said gently.

And then, just like a mirage, he quietly turned away and made his way toward the stairs. When she heard the door to his bedroom shut, she finally collapse to her knees. Kiara’s breathing came out in rushed waves and she buried her face in her hands, stifling a sob that nearly broke through the silence. She wasn’t sure if she should feel elated or devastated.

What was happening between them now?

~ m.y. ~

It had been three months since he burned his private book collection. The more innocent and bright-eyed side from his youth mourned the loss of the texts. He could always purchase them again if need be. He wasn’t exactly hurting for money. But it was the worn edges of the books, the notes he’d made in the margins, that he could never get back.

Those would be lost forever.

It’s probably for the best, he thought, sighing as he cradled his cup of coffee in his hands, the lessons have been learned .

He watched the sun setting slowly over the horizon from his back patio. He reflected back to Kiara’s face when he’d torched his books. She’d called them “precious” and she wasn’t exactly wrong. But she wasn’t completely right either.

There were more important things in life than the words on the pages of books. He wanted to be able to tell her that himself, but Yoongi found he couldn’t. He didn’t think the words he had swirling around his head would be enough to get his message across.

Or maybe she already understood…

He turned to head back inside, closing the sliding glass door behind him. He peered around the main living area, absentmindedly wondering where his wife was. It was still early. Maybe she was still asleep.

As Yoongi moved toward the kitchen, the distinct sound of typing could be heard down the hallway. Blinking, he set his cup down and slowly trudged down the corridor leading to his office. He slowly turned the knob, opening the door to peek inside.

Kiara was rapidly typing at his desk, her eyes focused but clearly tired. Every few minutes, she would stop to roughly hit the tops of her shoulders, rolling her neck to loosen whatever knots were beginning to form there. His eyes wandered to the desk where there was a large stack of papers. Bundles were separated and stacked in varying directions so that there would be no confusion as to what stack belonged with which grouping.

His printer whirred to life, shooting out page after page of whatever she’d just finished. When the next bundle was complete, Kiara pulled out a pencil and began to write on pages as she sifted through them.

She hadn’t noticed him yet.

“What are you doing?”

His voice clearly startled her, nearly causing her to drop the entire packet of paper she had in her hands. Yoongi closed the door behind him, approaching the desk and reaching out for the bundle of papers at the very top of the stack. Kiara made a noise of protest, but his eyes scanned the front curiously.

Then his curiosity gave way to surprise.

“This is…” he began, but realized he couldn’t finish as his eyes landed on the next bundle’s cover page.

Animal Farm by George Orwell.

Yoongi rapidly flipped through the pages of 1984 in his hands. It was written, word-for-word, from what he could remember of the book. The most shocking discovery, however, was seeing his own handwriting along the margins of the pages where he’d taken his own personal notes and written rhetorical questions to ask himself as he read. It was almost too much for him to take in.

Lowering the manuscript at his side, he looked up as Kiara stood from his chair.

“I felt terrible about you destroying them,” she began, holding her hands up, “and don’t worry! I made sure that there aren’t any digital copies on your computer. Every time I finished one, I would print and delete it right away.”

He said nothing. He just continued to look at her; flabbergasted.

“You have photographic memory.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.

Kiara nodded.

“You even put all of my notes back.”

Again, she nodded.

His eyes wandered back to the large stack of papers. If it was separated by novels, then there were at least twenty books in the stack. Maybe more. And if she was taking the time to recreate his own scribbles, who knew how long this was actually going to take; how long she’d already been taking?

Is this what she’s been working on for the last month?

The ream of paper slipped from his hand and fluttered to the floor. Kiara gasped, rushing around the desk in a hurry to pick up the discarded pages. He stopped her before she could kneel to the floor, his hand grasping her upper arm to keep her standing. She looked at him with wide eyes and she tried to take a step away from him. But Yoongi held fast, refusing to let her move even an inch away from her.

“...thank you,” he whispered softly.

He felt what tension remained in Kiara start to ebb away.

And then she smiled. It was the first time he’d ever seen her smile and it hurt to even look at her. But Yoongi continued to stare at the curve of her lips and the way they turned upward. Her hazel eyes seemed to glitter against the twilight sky pouring in from his office window - the corners crinkling up just a little in response to the smile. He didn’t think it was possible, but Yoongi swore he could hear the sound of his heart breaking and reforming simultaneously. Suddenly, it was difficult for him to breathe, but he tried anyway. It felt like tiny needles were stabbing into the organ beating furiously against his chest, threatening to burst free and fall to the floor.

The logical side of his head, the one screaming at him to run out of the office and as far away from Kiara as humanly possible, was losing against the side that Yoongi didn’t even recognize. Like a time lapse, he watched their life together zip through his mind’s eye - a grainy film projection that continuously focused on every facet of Kiara that he could remember. Everything from big to small - a simple gesture and an even simpler question.

Nothing could compare to the sheer radiance that resulted in her smile.

In that moment, Yoongi knew that he wanted nothing more than to see her smile again. To see it past today and to watch her smile every single day after this one.

He would ask for forgiveness later. He wasn’t about to ask for permission. Not now.

Tugging his arm back, he pulled Kiara close to him. Her chest crashed into his, causing them both to stumble a single step forward and backward respectfully. Her smile disappeared, replaced with confusion. He watched her brows furrow and just as her mouth opened to speak, Yoongi leaned his face in - sealing his lips over hers in a rough kiss.

They both inhaled slowly and he could feel Kiara’s hands grasping at his shoulders. But she didn’t fight him. Instead, he could feel the heavy thud of her own heartbeat attempting to chase the cadence of his. Wrapping his free arm around her waist, he tried to pull her even closer. The smell of her shampoo, her subtle body spray, and how warm and smooth her skin was beneath his touch was almost too much. He feverishly kissed her, nipping and tugging at her full lips which would be swollen from his affection.

Darkness enveloped the sky, plunging them into darkness. The only light in the room came from the computer monitor, reflecting its light against the large bookshelf behind the desk. He pulled away from Kiara’s mouth, his eyes adjusting to the dark quickly as they both took the time to catch their breaths.

“Y-Yoongi,” she stammered, her body trembling slightly in his arms.

“I know what this is.” His voice was low, his breath dancing along her skin as he curled his fingers into the flare of her hip. “This is a problem.”

Even in the dark, he could see Kiara’s worried expression. She wasn’t a fool. She knew what this was just as well as he did. And just like him, she also knew how much of a problem this was.

But it was too late to turn back now.

“I didn’t want to fall in love. I didn’t.” Yoongi lifted one hand up to brush a few of her curls away from her face, resting his palm against her cheek so he could tilt her face further upward. “But then you smiled, and that was the end of everything for me.”

Even as he continued speaking, Yoongi could feel the panic creeping up his throat, threatening to choke the very life out of him. He’d heard of things like this happening in the past, years before he was born. When marriage was a choice made between two people who loved each other. It wasn’t something to be pulled from a Lottery.

When loving someone was a gift, not a crime.

A crime or not, Yoongi wanted to know. No. He had to know.

“Do you love me?”

And like he’d struck something buried deep at the core of her, Yoongi watched Kiara’s eyes fill with tears. They streamed down her face endlessly. For a brief second, he believed he’d hurt her feelings; that he’d done something irreparable.

But then, just like before, Kiara smiled up at him. He felt her hand brushing over his face, her nails lightly scraping over his jawline and resting at the edge of his chin.

“I do,” she replied gently while nodding, “I love you, Min Yoongi.”

Unable to hold himself back, Yoongi kissed her again - their arms entangling themselves with one another. The need to continuously press and touch, to physically express everything they’d collected inside of themselves all this time, was overwhelming. But he couldn’t stop wanting her; wanting the woman he’d come to love little by little every single day and he hadn’t even realized it.

But they couldn’t stay like this forever.

They both pulled away to reclaim the air they’d stolen from one another, catching their breaths momentarily. He could feel Kiara’s ability to hold herself up beginning to wane. Slowly, he lowered them both to the floor - pulling her into his lap so he could cradle her against him. He took comfort in the feel of her arms around his neck, pulling him close so that he could rest his face against the juncture of her neck.

She smelled so good.

“We can’t stay here,” he finally said, his voice muffled in his own ears from the heavy thrumming of her heart, “they’ll find out eventually and we’ll both be thrown into prison.”

Her chest rose and fell as she sighed. “Where will we go?”

“Anywhere.”

“Anywhere?”

Yoongi smiled as he closed his eyes. “Anywhere but here.”

A moment of silence passed and he felt her sigh again, but her heart beat began to settle.

“Will anyone be able to help us?”

“I’m sure we aren’t the first ones to experience this.” Yoongi raised his head up so he could look at her. “And we won’t be the last.”

He watched her canting her head a little. “Is everything going to be alright?”

Yoongi gave a slight shrug, causing Kiara to giggle a little. “Even if it isn't, it doesn’t matter. I love you, Kiara.” Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers. “Stay with me. ...please.”

As they looked at each other, Yoongi couldn’t help but drink in everything about her. Kiara’s eyes fluttered before closing and he quickly closed what little distance existed between them. This kiss was less intense, soft and meaningful - pulling and tugging at a want that perpetually nagged at him from the shadows for so long. Kiara shed light on the dark crevice of his heart - a part of him that he’d believed was simply meant to be there and to feel nothing else. To want nothing else.

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he was lucky or not, but he knew that he was thankful. He’d been so hollow for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to feel anything; to yearn for something so much that the desire itself could swallow a person whole. But it was a feeling that made him remember what being alive was supposed to entail; what it truly meant.

Love.

Her love.

His love.

This love.

Their love.

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